The Games They Play
by kopycat101
Summary: When we see Katniss' journey through the 74th Hunger Games, everything is established, until she breaks the rules. The times of past are forgotten. But nothing was concrete or established when the 1st Annual Hunger Games started; such a process took years. Watch as your favorite kids get thrown into the Games, and how they adapt and shape the Games, year after year.
1. 0 (Prologue)

**AN**: I'm baffled that a Hunger Games and Dangan Ronpa crossover doesnt exist on this site. Cmon- they're both stories about kids killing each other. That's all the incentive you need

_This story takes characters from Dangan Ronpa, and inserts them into the Hunger Games universe_. For most DR crossovers, its the other way around, but I honestly find that they would fit well in the Hunger Games.

_This fic will also be used to explore how the Hunger Games work- especially in earlier Games_. Because, honestly, all the rules couldn't have been established and concrete in the early Hunger Games. The Careers can't have always existed. And it just doesn't seem likely that starting to send children to their death won't get **some** type of negative reaction.

_Next chapter: We see our first Dangan Ronpa kid become a Victor._

* * *

><p>0 [Prologue]<p>

From Then to Now

0-0-0-0-0

Up until the 73rd Hunger Games, people found a repeating pattern to the Games.

There was a Head Gamemaker who held ideas for the Arenas. Every year, the Arena varied. There would be a large group of Gamemakers, all under the guise of the Head Gamemaker and President.

_However, at the start of the Hunger Games, such a title did not exist. A board had been created to oversee the Hunger Games. The President was a member. They didn't have extravagant, artistic Arenas—simply empty places they could put the necessary equipment and Tributes in._

Districts 1, 2, and 4 were Career Districts. They trained their children to be killers, and often banded together to hunt down the weak. They were cemented in their status as the Capitol's lapdogs, for decades.

_However, at one time, there were no trained Tributes. There were only those who were ferocious enough to survive, who didn't want the honor and glory of going into these death matches, who could never bring themselves to kill another person. _

Career Districts have the most Victors, but sometimes the other Districts will gain a Victor.

_Only District 2 had ever gotten the upper hand when it came to Victors, in the first few Hunger Games. They were the Capitol's most loyal, and their District held all the Peacekeepers and Masonry, so they were strong. _

_For the most part, every District got a Victor in those first 15 years of the Games, except for the poorest and most desolate, District 12._

0-0-0-0-0

The Reapings was the lottery for the Games, the choosing of the Tributes. The Reapings went in order of time zone, so that the Capitolites could watch them in order, starting from District 1 and ending with District 12. Children were roped off in sections by age and gender.

_For many years, the Reaping was incredibly __**dis**__organized. All the children of Reaping age gathered in their City Square, melding and mixing together. Siblings, friends, classmates—they were all able to group together, no matter the different ages or genders. In some Districts, parents were even able to attend with their children in the crowd._

_The Reapings used to not go in numerical order, as well. The Districts farthest away from the Capitol would have their Reapings first, so that they could arrive in time with the inner Districts. The Capitolites weren't so stringent on catching all the Reapings during the times they occurred. They could simply watch recaps of them during their own time._

The calling of names during the Reaping was a dreaded, but simple event. Older and poorer children had more slips in the bowl, and often got chosen. Those chosen had to go, unless someone Volunteered to take their place—which was popular in the Career Districts.

_In the First Hunger Games, such a system was not in place. The bowl was rigged heavily—half the Tributes were Rebels who had survived the war and punishment._

_It wasn't until the Third Hunger Games where the system was first implemented, on older children having more slips in the bowls. The addition of Tesserae also cemented poor children getting Reaped often._

_The promise of money in Victory caused many children of outlier Districts to Volunteer, rather than the children from richer Districts. It was wild and unpredictable, and rarely were the Volunteers prepared for the Games._

The Tributes Reaped would be led to their largest official building—usually the Justice Building—to go to say their goodbyes. Families and friends can attend, and each group given certain allotted time for each visit.

_Goodbyes were a long process, in the olden days. There was no concrete time for them to leave. Groups would pile into one room altogether to wish farewell, staying there for even hours at a time. The guards had a hard time ripping the children from the embraces of family and friends._

The Tributes would be put on lavish, high-tech trains to take them to the Capitol. They are accompanied by a Captiol Escort, their Mentors—previous Victors of the Games—and teams of Avoxes to wait on them hand and foot.

_Older, smaller, basic traveling trains were used. Often, only 3 or 4 carts long. They were made of bulky steel and gears, and didn't go in such astounding speeds. _

_And often, the small trains were flooding with guards, there to watch over the Tributes to make sure they didn't kill themselves or escape. There would be no servants to attend to their needs—and there was simply an Escort to take the children to the Capitol, and a Capitolite who would mentor the Tributes. _

The affair of the trains arriving to the Capitol was an exciting event for the privileged people of the utopia. They greeted the Tributes, trying to get a glimpse, get a touch, of them.

_The arrival of the trains was made low-key. Capitolites didn't swarm the trains—they barely knew what the trains were there for. The trains also entered in an outskirt part of the grand utopia, not snaking through the heart of it. Not to mention that they would arrive in different, random intervals._

The Tributes were bewildered, maybe a bit nervous and afraid. But they allowed themselves to be led where they needed to go. They took the sights in, and never reacted violently. Those were rare occurrences.

_Children would panic spectacularly, trying to furiously fight to run away or end things. They were scared, they were crying, they were bitter and paranoid. Many simply couldn't function. It took a few years to finally get a batch of Tributes where every child simply followed orders, and acted normal._

0-0-0-0-0

The Tributes would be swept away by a team of Stylists, to be prepared for the Chariot Rides—an extravagant parade of the Tributes along the heart of the Capitol. The stylists would beautify the tributes, polishing them, draping them in costumes that represented each of their Districts.

_The Chariot Rides weren't a staple from the first two Games. They weren't overtly extravagant, even when they started the tradition. Mild costumes, a more mild crowd. _

_There wasn't enough time for complete makeovers, or extravagant clothing. The Districts would arrive in varying times, and had to be out at a certain hour for the parade, not leaving much time for certain Stylists._

The children were told to make a good impression. Most did so—they would wave, smile, put on an act to get the love and adoration of the Capitol.

_The Tributes were often stiff. It was rare for someone to smile and wave, or put on an impression or act to please the crowd. A majority were frozen, looking like cadavers stuffed in costumes, without a single reaction. _

The tributes were taken to special accommodations. A large skyscraper, with a swift elevator, the buttons marked for each corresponding District. Each District had an entire floor—a large suite—for the Tributes, Mentors, Escort, Stylist Team, and Avoxes. This place was called the Training Center.

There were no guards to keep anyone in line. Simply hidden cameras, and the knowledge that the Capitol was watching you and every move you make. The children could do almost anything with their time and resources.

_Accommodations had been a steel-reinforced building, one room for each District. Even when they were upgraded, only the Tributes, Mentor, and Escort would live on a floor. _

_Every floor was heavily guarded. Many Tributes would try ending their misery early, overwhelmed by the dread of entering the Hunger Games. Tributes weren't such sheep, weren't so calm to go to their slaughter. Children could turn rabid, spitting and clawing, making everything as chaotic as possible. They would fight their guards, or their assigned Capitolites. They didn't have many things to do, or many resources to use.._

The children could have literally anything they could ever dream of, in their short stay in the Capitol. Plush beds, scented baths, dozens of outfits to wear, and any type of rich food imaginable. They were pampered and fattened up before they were thrown out to be slaughtered, but those few days were heaven and thousands of pooled resources.

_The Tributes weren't given such leeway, nor where they pampered so spectacularly. Glitz and glamour wasn't part of the pre-Games. Interviews and Chariot Rides and Sponsors weren't important. Rooming was a bleak affair. _

_Those few days were hell for Tributes. The waiting was unbearable, especially with so little to occupy your time with. The things they got were basic—basic changes of clothes, basic food, basic rooms. The children were simply kept there, waiting to be slaughtered._

0-0-0-0-0

Tributes had to go to the basement of the Training Center for Training. Three days of preparation for the children to learn survival skills. Almost the entire basement floor was one single room, booths and equipment to signify the different stations. Any type of survival skill one would need was in this room, simply there for the chance of one of these children to near and start practicing.

The room had deadly skills—weapons, target practice, sparring, hand-to-hand combat, weights, simulations. They had purely physical skills—obstacle course, rope climbing, rock walls, a track, sometimes even a pool to learn swimming. They had useful skills—plant identification, fire making, water purifying, snares, traps. They had minor survival skills that were unpopular, but once every few years, would serve useful in the Games—fishing, rope tying, bug eating, first aid, camouflage.

_Training used to be in a bleak, steel-reinforced building. Guards were everywhere, watching the children to make sure they didn't hurt themselves or others with the few materials available to them._

_Tables served as the stations, and there wasn't a large collection of them. You could only learn the very basics of each skill, with the little resources they gave you. Bare essentials on skills to learn. Many children were too depressed to attend of their own volition._

_It took a lot of pushing, especially from the Victors, and many years, for Training to be what it is in the future. _

The last half of the third day of Training would be when the Tributes would show their skills to the Gamemakers. They would be graded from a scale of 1 to 12, 1 being the worst.

Usually the outlier Districts would get scores of 1 through 7. The Careers would get scores of 7 to 10, with the occasional, strong non-Career gaining such a score. The scores are broadcasted, to help people know who has the best chance of winning. Many people bet on the Tributes, using these scores as a basis.

_It used to be a simple panel of judges to give scores to the Tributes. Many years passed, before a tribute ever got a 1 or 11. Even the most desolate, useless children would be given a 2; never a 1._

_Scores could vary greatly. Each year, the scores were compared against that of the highest score, this often turning to be a more effective method than the numbering scale. A score of 10 in the first dozen Hunger Games could be akin to a 12 or 14 in modern ones_.

0-0-0-0-0

The next day was the Interviews. The children had hours to be coached and dressed. In the late evening, they would get on stage, dressed in beautiful clothing. They had three minutes to make a good impression, to make themselves memorable.

_Interviews were usually bleak, with only a handful of truly memorable Tributes. Stage fright was common, and a strong force. It was mostly just a test, to see who was truly worth the effort to watch in the Games. Also, it was one last time to see these children civilized, before they turn into complete beasts, and die._

People could Sponsor the Tributes. Give the Mentors their money, so that they could help the children in the Arena. Money to but essential, often life-saving supplies. Sponsorship was so show how much certain Capitolites adored the children, showing that they **cared**, if only for a few weeks.

Tributes were advised to do everything to gain sponsors. Do well in the Chariot Rides. Get a good Training Score. Do well in your Interviews.

_Sponsorship was an addition that turned the Games into an entertainment industry. Capitolites always mumbled on how they wanted to help their favorite Tributes in some way, in past Games—but it was simply never an option. _

_The second President of Panem established the Sponsorship system. It was something to appease both Capitolites and Districts citizens alike. _

_Advising Tributes to do everything to gain sponsors came after the first Hunger Games that had Sponsorship gifts. Everyone got to watch as these gifts lengthened the lifespan of Tributes, and even helped a Tribute attain Victory._

0-0-0-0-0

The Games would start. Tributes would rise up tubes, and into the Arena, standing on platforms that would click into place. There was a countdown of 60 seconds, so the children could take in their surroundings.

_The children were given a minute grace period once they'd risen, to give both them and the tech support some time. Then the countdown would start from 12, and go down to 0._

The stronger Tributes—usually the Careers—would get to the cornucopia of supplies first. The Cornucopia, a large golden metal structure in the shape of a horn, was where the best supplies were located. The largest backpacks, the most weapons, the biggest sacks of food, the most useful survival gear.

_The Cornucopia wasn't a set structure. Sometimes, it was a building. Sometimes, tables, boxes, or racks. The horn structure was rarely painted golden, unless it fit in with a theme._

_Only the fastest and most determined arrived to get the best supplies. They only ever attacked each other at the start of the bounty, if they got in one another's way. Large alliances weren't common. It was often small scuffles and struggles._

This battle over supplies is dubbed The Bloodbath. Anywhere from 5 to 11 tributes can die during this time. 8 is usually the average. Most of the outlier District Tributes who try going to get supplies die during the Bloodbath.

_This struggle for supplies was never officially dubbed a name. It took a Victor from an outlier District to refer it to The Bloodbath for it to stick, spread across the nation, and become an official part of the Hunger Games._

_Any combination of age, gender, and District could die during this time. It honestly depended on the Tributes for each Game. It was also more common for simply one person to kill another, instead of a group movement, before Careers were established. _

Some of the quicker, weaker Tributes would leave the area as quickly as possible, not chancing on the battle for supplies. However, getting supplies would often be the life or death of children later in the Games. This was never much an issue for Careers, who gained both Sponsor gifts and the Cornucopia bounty.

_Even at the very first Hunger Games, supplies being vital was true. A few items could help a tribute survive._

_However, alliances monopolizing the Cornucopia wasn't a very smooth process. Many lone Tributes could sneak off and get supplies, whilst the bounty was unoccupied. It simply took a smart, logical Tribute to figure this out, and use the gap to their advantage. _

When the pool of Tributes starts to narrow, the Careers turn on one another—usually ruining their chances of winning, with the outcome. Many alliances break violently, when it gets to the finals.

_At the start, this wasn't the case. District partners would stick the longest they could with one another. If an alliance was made, it was long-lasting. Very rarely would the break turn violent, or would someone backstab their ally. _

_Children were paranoid, yes. Bitter, scared, and rabid. But back then, they knew the real enemy: The Capitol. Their allies, their District partners—they were in their same situation. They could be trusted._

0-0-0-0-0

It took Coriolanus Snow to cement the Hunger Games as punishment, entertainment, tyranny, complete and utter pain, and celebration. He helped finish molding Panem and the Hunger Games into what they are, by the time the 73rd Hunger Games are over.

It just turns out that by the 74th Hunger Games, all those decades of trying to organize and have a set formula for them, gets shot into flames.

Katniss Everdeen breaks those established rules, making everything as chaotic and uncertain as the first few Hunger Games.

0-0-0-0-0

But perhaps, we should go to the beginning…Start from there, and then progress to the now.


	2. I (Mukuro and Beta Makoto)

**AN**: Mukuro is scarily easy to transfer into the Hunger Games universe. But at least in this au, she's happier than in the actual game.

_These kids are from a Japanese game, and have Japanese names. If this bothers you, then pretend that Japanese names are as common as English and Roman names in Panem._

That, or I can give you 4Kids-esque English names to give the characters. Mukuro Ikusaba= Mucrow Warblade. Done.

* * *

><p>I [Mukuro+Beta!Makoto]<p>

Victor of the 1st Hunger Games

Mukuro Ikusaba, 15, District 2

1-1-1-1-1

There is an uproar from the Districts, as they are told their punishment. The salt to be rubbed in their wounds. Their **reminder**.

One boy and one girl from each District, ages 12 to 18, are to be picked via lottery. Once picked, they are to be thrown together in a disclosed location, so they can fight to the death.

Only one can win. Only one can survive.

Everything will be televised. No one can stop this. No one is strong enough to oppose it.

It will be known as The Hunger Games.

The war nearly restarted, right then and there, when the announcement was broadcasted across the Districts of Panem. Only the Peacekeepers and high-powered weapons could stop the barbarous beings.

People roar angrily at the injustice, as they are held back, silenced, struck down.

_Why are you punishing the children? Why not just execute us, and get it over that way? Why kill the innocent?_

President White's answer is simple: _Because this way, you will all learn_.

1-1-1-1-1

The Reapings are a mess. Names have to be drawn multiple times, the census and lists of currently living people in the Districts being completely outdated. There have been much too many casualties in the Districts.

The bowls of the lottery are heavily rigged. Young rebels make up more than half the tributes.

A soldier—the daughter of a high-ranking Peacekeeper of District 2—is Reaped. Those smart enough to put two and two together—those who _cared_ of the damned children—paled when they noted this.

Many who were privy of this detail before the general public were people who were pro-Capital, or simply Capitolites themselves.

They didn't care.

And neither did the District 2 girl, the ultimate soldier.

1-1-1-1-1

The organization of The First Annual Hunger Games is a mess.

The Tribute's accommodations are in a heavily reinforced steel building. There is one small, barren room for each District's tributes. There is one Capitolite per District, to help mentor them for their coming doom.

Even with the barren-ness of the rooms, many of these Capitolites report back to their bosses with heavy injuries, wrought from the angered, terrified children.

1-1-1-1-1

The next day, after the children have arrived VIA trains to the Capitol, Tributes are sent to another steel building to learn survival skills. Tables fill the room—stations, each teaching one skill, a tall Capitolite woman had told them—stern people behind them. Peacekeepers and guards are in every corner of the room, watching the children closely.

It is called Training, and it's to last 3 days. Many children are desolate, protest vehemently to attending. They are dragged to the event, sometimes in restraints until they can be calmed down.

They don't want to face reality.

Of the few that attend of their own free will, include the pair from District 2.

A young boy, looking incredibly plain and average. He's barely thirteen, short and sweet as could be. His dark brown hair is thick and soft, the color of chocolate. He is helpful and kind, despite the desolation and despair of his situation.

A tall, well-built girl, who will forever serve the Capitol, even when ushered to her death. Everything about her is starkly black and white, cold, calculated. There is nothing remotely friendly about her.

The odd pair simply wander around the basic survival stations. They are given approving stares, from the Capitolites in the large room.

The girl doesn't even consider nearing the combat stations, and the boy simply doesn't know of her abilities. He follows her readily, like a shadow. From fire-making, to plant identification, to animal tracking.

1-1-1-1-1

Three days pass. In the middle of that third Training day, Tributes are ushered to show their skills in front of a panel of judges, one by one. The grading scale is from 1 to 12, 12 being the most phenomenal.

The first to enter is the boy from 1, who quivers and shrinks away from the door. He has to be dragged inside by a guard. The girl is barely any better.

The boy from 2 strolls to the door of his own volition, oddly peppy. His District partner watches him. Soon, she is beckoned to enter.

The girl from 2 marches in, waiting stiffly in front of the judges. When they tell her to start, she salutes them, then promptly shows them why she was known as a prodigy.

They gave her a 10. It was obvious that she was skilled, and knew what she was doing.

Even before she leaves the room, she knows she achieved the highest score. And she did.

1-1-1-1-1

The scores are broadcasted that night. District 1 passes. Then the District 2 girl's face and name—_Mukuro Ikusaba_—flashes on the screen

10.

Her partner hugs her, cheering at her success, only mildly bothered of how **dangerous** she is. He somehow managed a 4. It—and every single score afterwards—pales in comparison to hers.

The next day, the Tributes are interviewed. It's a long prep day—the evening is when the true interviewing takes place. The children—almost all frightened, foaming animals—are draped and shoved in **proper**, formal clothing.

The Capitolites that mentor them try their best to prepare them, but many aren't ready for the spotlight. Each one is slowly shoved out onto the stage, under the bright lights and the attention of the entire nation.

But not the girl from 2. She marches out readily.

Without trying, Mukuro manages to win over the crowd. She's dangerous. She's loyal. She's a soldier. Even her family was known for being Peacekeepers.

It's almost as if she's crowned the Victor, before the Games even start.

Every Capitolite cheers, screaming her name. They adore her—nay, they **love** her.

Every District citizen cowers, seeing Death itself on her face, seeing her already covered in the blood of her fellow children.

1-1-1-1-1

That night, all the Tributes cannot sleep.

Many try, once more, to end their lives right there and then.

They are, of course, stopped. They are monitored and protected heavily. The only time they can die is in the Arena, filmed and broadcasted for the entire nation to see.

The chocolate-haired boy from 2 stays up whispering to his District partner, even if she doesn't whisper back.

1-1-1-1-1

The day of the Games dawns bright and sunny, in the most ironic of ways. All 24 children are dressed in a rather mundane outfit of basic pants, shirt, light jacket, and belt.

Each Tribute is shoved in hovercraft carriers, placed in tubes. Many are restrained or somewhat sedated, to be properly put in place.

When all 24 are ready, the tubes rise. The moving steel under their feet soon clicks into place. They finally rise, standing on platforms, all spaced evenly apart in a circle.

Grass. A plain of grass surrounds them. A few trees in the distance, to the North.

Immediately, in the middle of the circle of platforms, is a large steel container. Racks of weapons, backpacks, and food litter the small shack-like structure. The importance of the items detracts, as they near the pedestals, peppered about.

The tributes take in the sight of the steel structure warily, as well as everything else.

The countdown finally reaches its end. Almost all the children frozen on their platforms, either in fear or defiance.

Mukuro of 2 sprints to the center structure without hesitation, eyes having locked on the lone gun and clip placed strategically on a pedestal made of crates.

That gun is hers; it is so incredibly obvious.

She arrives there in seconds, already loading and cocking the .44 Baretta handgun—a very atypical fair for a Capitolite soldier. She whirls around, and shoots down the first stupid kid that runs towards the steel structure. She shoots 2 more, before searching for more weapons.

A combat knife, a machete, a small set of throwing knives. She tests a knife with a flick of her wrist, as it imbeds itself on the District 8 boy's forehead, who was nearing her turned back.

A canteen, a well-stocked backpack, a first-aid kit. Another shot, this time through the District 8 girl's face as she charged towards her—right when the disheveled girl was in mid-wail, furious and despairing over her partner's death.

The other tributes pale. A few start sprinting away, scattering—trying to head in any other direction, as long as it was **away** from the killer. Many are still stationary, on their pedestals.

It's her District partner that starts the wave. He calmly sits down, not willing to fight, to kill. The other 6 tributes that stayed rooted to their spots follow suit.

Mukuro stares bewildered at the young, plain face of the kind boy. He gives her a benign half-smile, before his pedestal promptly beeps and detonates, blowing up.

As the other 6 pedestals blow up—interference, most likely, from President White—Mukuro can't get the image of her District partner's last smile out of her mind.

She numbs herself. Goes meticulously through the supplies in the steel shack, arming herself to the teeth with weapons and rations. Forgets the boy, and only thinks of her mission: to please the Capitol.

And that means to bring the Rebels as much pain as possible.

1-1-1-1-1

Mukuro Ikusaba goes through the rest of The First Annual Hunger Games, hunting down tributes. She tortures those that were Rebels, to please the Capitol, who she will forever follow.

She runs around nonstop, with barely any rest or sleep. The only time she stops is when the Capitol Anthem blares during the night of the first day. When she hears the start of the tune, she snaps at attention, only moving when the tune ends and the faces flicker away from the night sky.

Mukuro Ikusaba is deemed the Victor, after fighting a desperate boy from 5 with solely her machete and superior combat skills.

The Games only lasted for 2 days. She has 13 kills to her record.

The Capitol **loves** her. Every District except for her home of 2 **despises** her.

"_Here is your Victor for the First Annual Hunger Games—Mukuro Ikusaba from District 2!"_

1-1-1-1-1

She's soon back on stage, in front of the adoring Capitol crowd.

Mukuro smiles, because she did all of this for _them_. She smiles, because she loves the praise, loves feeling important and needed.

Her partner still haunts her.

1-1-1-1-1

In-between the Games and the next, Mukuro is paraded around the Districts, breaking all the hard-placed borders that came after the war.

The Capitol doesn't care. They take pride in their Soldier, their Victor—someone who embodies everything the Capitol wants from the Districts, and what the Districts despise.

This event is dubbed 'The Victory Tour'.

Mukuro is told to give a speech for each District. Her being still filled to the brim with patriotic pride, she simply says this:

"_The Capitol will always win. Next time, prepare yourselves_."

She dodges all the things that are thrown at her—items and comments alike—from the furious, grieving crowds.

1-1-1-1-1

The Capitolite man who had mentored her during her time at the Capitol visits her in her new home—one built in a pristine plot of land, away from the rest of her District.

He notes on how wonderful the home is, and Mukuro readily agrees. It's large, and it's all for herself—her family were still prideful of their positions as Peacekeepers, not wanting to move away from their headquarters, and still wanted to weed out the Rebels in the districts.

It was one of the perks—along with all the fame and fortune—that she received when she won.

With all that surrounds her, she can even forget of the peaceful thirteen-year-old that she had bonded with, if only for a few days.

The ridiculously dressed man—Demetrius—in the bright blue suit congratulates her. He then informs her that she was phenomenal, and that he wouldn't be mentoring any future District 2 Tributes any longer.

"_That's what you're going to do, now, Mukuro. You deserve it_!" he had told her with a smile, which she had readily returned.

"_I'd be honored to_," she responded sincerely.

"_This'll be a new tradition—a new fad, my girl! Soon enough, each District will have a Victor to Mentor their future Tributes. And then they'll have two, or even more! It's quite the wonderful system, really_."

_"It sounds brilliant_," she replied readily. Because to the staunch Capitol Loyalist, it truly **did** sound like a brilliant idea.

1-1-1-1-1

As the days drew nearer, closer to her fate of Mentoring the Tributes of her District, Mukuro Ikusaba couldn't sleep.

She wasn't sure if it was from excitement, nerves, or guilt.

The last feeling scared her.

And the fear was unsettling to her.

But she just couldn't understand **why** she felt that way. She had everything she wanted. She did her job well. She served her country.

_But can she still serve the Games, once they were already over?_


	3. II (Nekomaru and Usami)

**AN**: Nekomaru is also easy to transition into the Hunger Games. And since he looks so old, it'd make sense that he was in the earlier Games.

I wonder how many people are actually reading this *desolate laughter*. Anyways, Nekomaru's English name can be Catmaru Nidai. I think it goes well with Mucrow Warblade.

* * *

><p>II [Nekomaru+Usami]<p>

Victor of the 2nd Hunger Games

Nekomaru Nidai, 18, District 2

2-2-2-2-2

The day of the lottery drawing came, for the Second Annual Hunger Games. In District 2, Mukuro Ikusaba stood on the stage, behind the woman who would draw the slips.

The Mayor read the newly minted Treaty of Treason, and the girl listened attentively. She took each detail in. It was a well-worded, proper document, and noting all the fine points made her proud of the Capitol and of Panem.

Her name and title were called, and she received cheers from the crowd. They made her heart soar.

District 2 was the only District that would cheer for her. And she would make them proud.

The girl that was selected was a tiny little thing, at age 12. Thin, like a wisp, who looked pure and innocent. No more than a child.

The poor girl looked like she wanted to bolt for it, quivering nervously.

The boy, on the other hand, was large, at age 18. He was the epitome of what should be a man. He was incredibly tall, muscular, an air of power almost visibly surrounding him. He had sharp eyes, thick eyebrows, and a small goatee.

The man walked proudly up to the stage to join his District partner.

The male Tribute then did something unexpected. The tall male turned to his District partner, crouched down, pat the little girl gingerly on the head, and then warmly shook her hand.

Mukuro couldn't stop smiling, even moreso after the display.

She wished that neither would die on her.

2-2-2-2-2

The Boy of District 2 is actually happy to have been selected for the honor of competing in The Hunger Games. Ever since Mukuro Ikusaba won, he's doubled his workout regime, intent on bringing further honor to the District.

He was already well built, but he felt that he'd need all the help he could get, if he wanted to be up to par with the First Victor.

He said his goodbyes in the Justice Building, with his usual loud boisterousness, then boarded the train to take him to the Capitol. Once inside the grand city, he and the tiny girl were led into a steel-reinforced building, and into their designated room.

All the while, Mukuro explained things, and gave them advice. It was almost surreal.

He felt incredibly pleased by this, actually. None of the other Districts had a Victor to mentor them. District 2 was already starting strong.

He made sure to comfort his twitchy, tiny partner—_Bunny Magica_, was her name.

Well, her name certainly fit her. She was as small and precious as a bunny rabbit, charming to anyone, and he felt incredibly fond of her.

"_Don't worry_," he'd told her, whilst she stared at him with large eyes. "_I'LL PROTECT YOU! HAHAHA!_"

She had giggled along weakly to his boisterous, booming laughter. Then they met up with Mukuro one last time, before they went to sleep.

"_Be up and early for Training tomorrow_," she had advised them. "_You can learn a lot of important things from the different stations. It can even help you too, Bunny_."

"_Oh, and about the other tributes…The girls from 8 and 11 are pregnant. The boys from 3, 6, 9, and 12 are Rebels. The girls from 4 and 10 have Rebel ties_."

Bunny looked alarmed of the news of the pregnant teen mothers, and then started to weep silently for their fates.

The boy tried comforting her, as his gaze locked on the Victor.

Through his gaze, he told her something: _I'll do you proud, and take care of those rebels, just like you did_.

Mukuro gave him a small, tilting smile as she pat the little girl's head. She then left the two polar-opposite tributes to rest.

Bunny fell asleep crying silently, back turned from her partner to hide her tears and quivering form. The hulking boy lay on his back, barely fitting in the tiny bed, and dreamed of glory.

2-2-2-2-2

Mukuro woke up her tributes bright and early the next day for Training. She escorted them to the other building, giving them advice all the while.

She felt proud that her tributes were going of their own volition, compared to the other tributes, and even the ones in her own Games.

She left them in the large room full of stations.

Once they entered the room, the sparse fellow tributes in the room shrunk away from the pair. It was as if they were afraid to catch a deadly disease of some sort. As if being a Victor and murderer was contagious, and the two were already contaminated.

The boy paid them no mind. He simply chatted loudly and happily with his partner, distracting them both. He slowly led them in a clockwise motion through the stations.

This repeated for the other 2 days.

2-2-2-2-2

The judging and scoring came and went.

The judges personally found this batch of tributes to be better than the last, overall. They were also incredibly impressed by the brute strength of the District 2 boy, especially compared to the weak show of his partner.

During the night of the third day of Training, all the tributes watched the screens as they passed their scores.

District 1 came and went. Bunny got a 2, and she clung tightly to her partner's arm, who gave her a comforting pat on the head.

The boy's turn was next. His name—_Nekomaru Nidai_—flashed on the screen, as well as his score of 10.

He felt immensely proud for tying with Mukuro Ikusaba.

And just like with Mukuro Ikusaba, Nekomaru's score was the highest of all the tributes, and no one else's even neared his.

In the privacy of District 2's room, the Tributes and their Mentor celebrated mildly.

2-2-2-2-2

The next day was the Interviews.

Things ran a bit smoother than last Games. The Capitol Mentors already knew how to deal with desperate, wild children, and were able to calm and dress them in a quicker manner.

Mukuro, with the help of a Fashion expert, dressed Nekomaru and Bunny. They made Nekomaru seem more fierce, opting to give him a more casual-looking suit that showed his muscles. They dressed Bunny to look even more cute and innocent, in a puffy white dress.

The Tributes, already knowing what they'd have to go through with the Interviews, would step nervously across the stage, and shake the Host's hand. They would try to answer the questions posed to them to the best of their abilities.

Bunny was twitchy and as frightened as a woodland creature, but the Capitolites cooed and awwwed over her.

Then in strolled Nekomaru across the stage, full of energy, waving and greeting the crowd in his usual boisterous manner. He talked animatedly, he laughed, and he had such kinetic energy that it made the entire crowd roar with approval.

"_And remember—just have SPIRIIIIIT_!" he yelled to the crowd, who yelled back '_SPIRIIIIIT'_ with gusto.

The Capitol loved Nekomaru's Interview even more than they loved Mukuro Ikusaba's from last year.

No other Tribute compared to the burly boy. Even the girls from 2, 8, and 11 paled compared to him, despite gaining sympathy and pity points.

The tributes already felt the immanent dread of death.

It was like he was crowned the Victor, before the Games even began.

Anger and bitterness started to pump through the veins of those in the Districts, in the bodies of the Tributes.

Elation and adoration pumped through the heart of the Capitol.

2-2-2-2-2

Mukuro congratulated her tributes on their successful Interviews.

"_The Capitol loves you both_," she informed them, a bright smile in place, reliving her own Interview.

Bunny collapsed in her cot, shaken, her energy leaving her. She had been as taut as a rope, but now the rope snapped, and she was tired.

Mukuro tenderly undressed the girl, putting her in pajamas, akin to what a mother would do for their child. Nekomaru had simply turned his back to them, changing out of his nice clothes in a corner.

"_Get some sleep. You're going to need it_," Mukuro tells them softly, once the two are settled in their beds. She gently closes the door behind her, and walks to her quarters.

2-2-2-2-2

Mukuro wakes up on time to help prepare her Tributes.

She gives them their Arena outfits—basic clothes like last year, but now including some sturdy boots—and then leads them to the hovercrafts when they're ready.

"_I'll be rooting for you both. You can do it_," she tells them, giving them both quick squeezes, and then leads them to their tubes.

2-2-2-2-2

Nekomaru thinks that the tubes are uncomfortable. He feels like a trapped animal, and his bulky body barely fits in the reduced confines of the sturdy plexiglass.

After what feels like hours—when it couldn't have been more than a few minutes—the platform rises.

Nekomaru feels anticipation and adrenaline already pumping through his veins. Bunny feels fear and anxiety, and she quakes. The pregnant girls from 8 and 11 feel dread and terror, but try to calm themselves for the sake of their unborn children.

The platforms click into place. The children look around, taking in their surroundings..

All the pedestals are arranged once more in a circle, evenly spaced apart. Another steel structure is in the middle, items scattered across the area between it and them.

This year's Arena seems to be a forest. The Tributes are placed in a clearing—a pretty meadow, of sorts—and trees surround them from all sides.

It's an Arena that gives the Tributes a better chance to run and hide, instead of the large grass plain of last year.

The countdown ends, and Nekomaru Nidai barrels forwards, with a speed that contradicts his large size. However, doing laps and sprints was part of his training, and he finds it easy and natural.

He gets to the structure of supplies in record time, grabbing a glinting pair of brass knuckles, a large broadsword, and a bulky pack.

He's just put the pack on, when he hears someone approaching him from behind. He swivels around to gut the furious boy from District 12.

Nekomaru's eyes glint, as he remembers that this boy is a Rebel. The bulky Tribute then forcefully pushed the sword upwards, almost successfully cutting the boy in half, from the abdomen up.

A quivering wail from a very recognizable voice makes him stop.

With wide eyes, Nekomaru watches as Bunny Magica is mobbed by about half the Tributes.

Those desolate children swarmed her, beating and ripping her apart with their bare hands.

They are furious for Mukuro Ikusaba's massacre, they are furious for District 2 being such a lapdog of the Capitol, and they hate how strong and imposing and Victorious Nekomaru Nidai is.

So they take it out on the little quivering girl, the weakest and most viable person to take their revenge out on. It'd be a death wish to go against the meaty boy from 2—it's much easier to break and kill the tiny girl.

The smarter and quicker ones scattered when the little girl's mangled body hits the ground.

Nekomaru Nidai roars like a tiger, a cry burst from his very being. His eyes flash like lightning, fury and killer intent flooding the clearing. He races forwards, ripping and punching and slashing, trying to kill as many of the children who tortured his District partner as he can.

The sound of his booming roars, bones breaking, and necks snapping, is all that resounds through the meadow.

2-2-2-2-2

Nekomaru Nidai stands amongst a pile of corpses in the meadow.

7. He killed 7 Tributes, overall.

He collapses on his knees, hugging Bunny Magica's broken body to his chest, and weeps furiously.

Every other soul had left the area, so no one was able to kill him when he was distracted and weak.

2-2-2-2-2

After he distances himself from his District partner's corpse, Nekomaru swears he will bring honor to not just her, but to the entirety of District 2.

He won't forget his goal.

He crashes and blunders loudly through the trees and underbrush, but he's intent on finishing off those who had massacred Bunny, but had escaped. And he's intent to making everyone proud, and taking a leaf of out Mukuro's book.

Kill the Rebels.

2-2-2-2-2

Cannons keep going off in the Arena, but not any of them are because of Nekomaru Nidai.

Many tributes take it upon themselves to end their misery. Some attack each other with animalistic fear.

The two pregnant girls waddle slowly through the forest, always resting, always drinking from the river, always careful. Every Tribute that comes across them leaves them be, feeling pity for them, and unable to hurt a mother and child.

Even Nekomaru comes across one—the girl from 11. Once he catches sight of her, slumped and sleeping across at the base of a tree, he pretends that he doesn't. He makes a show of thinking that he hears a noise from another area, and in a right angle opposite of the girl.

He has too much honor, respect, and pride to ever kill the pregnant girls.

Evidentially, no one wants to kill those two girls. So President White interferes, making those that control the Arena kill them both.

It's the night of the third day when Nekomaru Nidai sees the faces of the dead flash across the dark sky. The two innocent girls are there.

_Innocence is dead_, he thinks to himself. _All that is left is strength and honor_.

2-2-2-2-2

The number of Tributes has finally whittled down by Day 4, mostly with the help of Nekomaru's perseverance. It's down to three.

Whilst Nekomaru traverses the forest, trying to comb it down to find his final opposition, he hears a canon.

Final two.

He decides to head back to the meadow to replenish his supplies once more, perhaps get a good meal to help his energy. He's not too far from there.

He enters, and there's the boy from 6. One of the people who mobbed his District partner, and a Rebel.

Nekomaru dumps his pack on the spot, gives a roar, and then charges forwards.

The battle is brutal.

But Nekomaru is more brutal than his opponent could ever imagine. With pure muscle, he barrels into the boy, and beats him senseless.

The District 6 boy puts up a good fight. It's a wonderful final showdown, really, and Nekomaru is glad that this boy is his final opponent.

The burly boy blearily looks down at the beaten and broken corpse of his opponent, as a voice booms around him

"_Congratulations to Nekomaru Nidai, the Victor of the Second Annual Hunger Games_!"

The goatee-sporting man can't help but grin. Giving an elated roar of victory, he raises his arms, yelling in elation to the heavens.

"_VICTORYYYYYYYYY!_"

He has 10 kills to his record.

2-2-2-2-2

Mukuro Ikusaba had instantly hopped onto a hovercraft, when she learned that her Tribute had won. They transported her quickly, with unreal speed, towards the Arena.

She's there when Nekomaru enters the hovercraft, bloody and bruised. He gives her a bright smile, eyes alighting in joy, when he sees her.

"_Not as good as your Victory, but I think I did a good job, haha_!" he jokes, full of bravado.

He stumbles when Mukuro flings herself at him, hugging him so hard that he yelps and feels the bones of his left arm dangerously creak.

She lets go, face pink, smiling awkwardly.

"_Let's get you patched up_," she tells him, voice relieved. "_The Capitol and our District will want to see you right away_."

"_Gladly_," he tells her with a large smile, as she escorts him to a medical room.

2-2-2-2-2

Nekomaru Nidai's Victory Interview is loud and booming. He laughs jovially, always talking loudly and animatedly.

Mukuro watches him proudly from the front row, face glowing in pride.

The crowd cheers constantly, and after the Interview is an after party with all the important people of the Capitol. Both Victors attend, and are the center of attention, heaped with praise.

The Capitol has always loved and appreciated District 2 above all others, but their adoration is still welcomed by both of the Victors.

This was the life.

This is what honor brings.

This is the start of something greater than either of them, and they're both excited for it.

2-2-2-2-2

"_Your new home is being constructed_," Mukuro tells Nekomaru, as they ride the train back home.

"_New home?"_ he asks, a somewhat confused grin on his face.

"_It's a reward for winning, for being so loved by the Capitol_," she explains, a small smile on her face. "_It's very large—almost as big at the ancient mansions the officials own. And it's very nice. You'll enjoy it—you deserve it, after all_."

He laughs jollily. "_SOUNDS GREAT! Maybe I can finally have a proper personal gym!"_

Mukuro's smile widens. "_You can come over and use mine, if you'd like. We're going to be neighbors anyways_."

Nekomaru gives her a crushing, warm side-hug. "_Can't wait!_"

"_Me neither_."

Perhaps they will distract one another from the horrid, haunting deaths of their District partners.

2-2-2-2-2

The Capitol magazines circulate articles about the two District 2 Victors regularly. Rumors sprout, especially since they are now neighbors, and are constantly seen together.

The two are oblivious to it all. They don't let anything stop them from working out together, visiting one another's place for dinner, or heading into town side-by-side.

It sure as hell doesn't stop Nekomaru from practically living with her, until his home is completed.

It's rare to see one without the other. They are known as a pair, rather than separate entities.

They are the stars of their District, really. They always get starry-eyed requests from small children for autographs, or pleads to join in on their training.

Nekomaru, always the louder and more sociable of the duo, would laugh and talk amicably with their fans. He'd even invite a few excitable teens to join them in their morning jogs.

District 2 was always rather proud and patriotic, but it grows exponentially because of the back-to-back Victors.

2-2-2-2-2

The Capitol adores the Victor duo so much, they parade them both on another Victory Tour across the Districts, mid-year.

Since Nekomaru was the recent Victor, and is the more boisterous one, he gets more spotlight.

His amicable cheeriness even wins over a few people of the Districts. But they are the minority, for the Districts are still incredibly embittered for how the strong lapdogs won, never giving the other condemned children a chance.

"_Tough crowd_," the burly Victor always comments under his breath towards his fellow Victor.

But he takes all the angry crowds, angry words, and angry projectiles with stride.

"_Just some advice, to all the Districts: stop rebelling. The Capitol is too grand, and too strong. Please, find something worthwhile, something honorable and worth your efforts. You'll only cause more pain, and you'll only lose. Become a player, become a winner, and become someone that we will look upon with pride. Have some SPIRIT!_"

That's what Nekomaru Nidai says to each and every District.

It's more eloquent and heartfelt than Mukuro Ikusaba's speech, but it gives the same overall message.

_Get better, win, and stop hurting yourselves. You're only spelling out your doom._

The Districts, however, are still vehement in their denial of the advice.

The duo merely link hands, raising them in Victory, every single time their duration on stage ends.

2-2-2-2-2

Demetrius—who had taken it upon himself to help District 2's Victors, ever since he mentored Mukuro—visits the girl's home.

"_Mukuro, honey, your initiative on getting Nekomaru's house built next to you has spurred marvelous ideas for future Victors!"_ he titters excitedly, sitting in the living room with the two residents.

"_IDEAS? You mean, they're gonna add more official perks?_" Nekomaru asks from his place sprawled across a long couch, stroking his goatee.

"_Yes! They're building grand homes in each District for future Victors. The areas of these new homes will be dubbed 'The Victors Village'. You've both set a trend, something that even President White hadn't considered before!_"

"_That's a good idea_," Mukuro finally speaks from her place on an armchair. "_It will be an incentive for some of the poorer Districts to try harder. Perhaps it will help iron out the anger and rebellion, if more perks are added to the Victors_."

"_Oh, they're adding perks, alright_," the Capitolite says mysteriously. "_Just wait until the national broadcast a week before the next lottery. You'll learn more then._"

The two Victors shared a look, both rather curious, but trusting the judgment of their superiors enough to not ask.


	4. III (Hiro and Beta Kyoko)

**AN**: So Yasuhiro's canonically older than all the other characters, which means that him being in these earlier Games is a given. Also, almost no one writes about this guy, nor mention the character development he gets (even if it's minor, and he's _Hiro_)

Kyoko is way more mature then he'll ever be, which is hilarious, and the reason why I have her Beta here with him.

Also, _this will be split into 3 parts_, because III is also very Mukuro and Nekomaru heavy. _The 3rd Games will have a pre-Games, Games, and Post-Games._

* * *

><p>III [Hiro+Beta!Kyoko]<p>

Victor of the 3rd Hunger Games

3-3-3-3-3

There came a broadcast across all of Panem, the week before the next death lottery. The District people gathered, huddling together, to watch the mandatory broadcast.

"_Greetings, all of Panem_," President White addressed. "_I am here to note some…additions, to The Hunger Games. Do not fret—they are rather positive_," he adds knowingly, predicting the outcry of the Districts.

"_Firstly, the lottery and drawing of names now has an official name. It shall be known as 'The Reaping', for the expression, 'Reaping the seeds that one sows'. The Reaping is now mandatory for each District citizen. Unless you are at death's door, or are drafted for your services, you are to attend this ceremony_."

This new information causes unhappy murmurs. Many have been able to miss the ceremony before, working extra hours and shifts to earn more money to help put food on the table. Those who never had children, or who had children not of age, had been able to simply go about their business, before.

"_Secondly, the lottery system itself has gone through a revamping. For the first year of attendance, at age twelve, a child will have one slip inside the lottery. Every subsequent year, the number of slips increases by one; they are cumulative. _

_For example…Two, for those who are thirteen; three, for those who are fourteen; all up to seven, for those who are eighteen. This is automatic for every child of Reaping age_."

The reaction to this was conflicting. It seemed split in half.

Many were happy that the younger, purer children had a lesser chance of ending up Reaped. Many were worried over their children who were older, who had an even greater chance of getting Reaped.

"_Thirdly, other additions to the Reaping. It is now a possibility for any child to Volunteer for the Tribute selected, taking their place, as long as they are of Reaping age, and are the same sex,_" the man started, waiting a few seconds until the reactions would not doubt blow over, to keep speaking.

Confused, bewildered whispers were exchanged. Who would want to get thrown into The Hunger Games?

Those children who had close friends or siblings were stone-faced, a contemplative gleam in their eyes.

"_It is also possible to obtain extra rations, if you are of Reaping age. This will be dubbed as Tessera, Tesserae being its plural."_

This caught people's interest. They leaned forwards, knowing that it was too good to be true; there had to be a catch.

"_You may exchange a Reaping entry for a Tessera token, which is one year's worth of oil and grain, for one person. Multiple Tesserae can be taken. A child of Reaping age will simply contact the Justice Building of their District, ask for the number of tokens they need, and that number of slips will be added into the Reaping bowl. The added slips from taking Tesserae is cumulative_."

"_These extra rules will be placed on posters in The Justice Building of each District, for any future reference_."

Many hungry children cried happily at the thought of extra food, even if their names were to be entered extra times in the Reaping.

Although many parents were uncomfortable with the thought of this, they were still rather relieved that such a positive thing could come from the Reaping. The addition of the Tesserae practice brought many people hope.

"_Lastly, the matter of Victory_," the President stated, causing a hush to befall across the country. "_If you become Victor, you will gain fame and fortune_."

"_The Victor will earn a large, steady income—enough money for a lifetime, to support any Victor and their loved ones_," he stated, a ghost of a smile on his face.

The reaction he hoped for was apparent all throughout the Districts. Exclamations, gasps, surprise, gaping mouths, starry eyes.

And hope. Fire. Contemplation. **Willingness**.

"_The Victor will reside in the newly constructed Victors Village, living in a luscious home, provided by the Capitol. Our two Victors are residing in such a place, in District 2, as a matter of fact. Any District has this opportunity._"

More murmurs, creating a large buzz throughout Panem.

President White had just made it so that if one became Victor, they didn't have to suffer. They could live well, never to worry about starving.

"_Also, as another bonus to Victory…The Victor's District will gain one year's worth of supplies, enough for every single person—things such as food, clothes, oil, riches…That is all_," the man ended with an eerie smile.

The Capitol seal came on the screen, the proud anthem blaring, and then the broadcast cut to black.

The President had just given the Districts a lot to think about.

He'd given them an incentive. And hopefully, he'd given them a reason to be compliant, to appreciate the efforts of the Capitol.

3-3-3-3-3

"_Do you think OUR District will get supplies, or is this just something new they're enforcing?"_ the male Victor asked the female Victor in a low voice.

"_It's hard to say_," she replied, in a low murmur. "_If not, we can always use our fortunes to help the needy of our District_."

"_True_," he nodded. "_Guess we'll just wait and see_."

3-3-3-3-3

The Reaping day comes.

Mukuro Ikusaba and Nekomaru Nidai skip their usual workout to simply become presentable and ready for the event. They walk there together—a habit that it seems will never die.

The two Victors make their way onstage, standing side-by-side, whilst they wait for the formalities to start.

The Mayor takes the stage, and starts reading the Treaty of Treason. Both Victors pay close attention, noting that the actual document had become slightly modified, the additions from President White taking hold.

The man introduces the Escort from the Capitol, and then reads the names and status of the two warriors on stage.

The District applauds, cheering for them. Both straighten and beam with pride.

The Capitolite titters, going over to the glass bowl that holds the female names. The Reaped girl is thin, and incredibly average, simply stepping onstage.

The Escort draws a name from the male bowl. An average boy happily goes onstage, full of energy. Although he doesn't seem to be much, Nekomaru remembers how this kid had joined him on many morning jogs—he has high hopes for him.

The city square buzzes with an odd energy. No one Volunteers to take their places.

Despite the fact that they were idolized by many, and some had even wanted to train with the Victors, no eligible child stepped forwards to Volunteer. It seems as if most were content, or perhaps simply didn't think they were prepared enough.

The Reaped boy turns to the girl, sticking his hand out to shake. After a moment, the girl shakes his hand. The Escort gives a final comment of, "_District 2, your tributes_!" before the ceremony ends, and the two teens are led to the Justice Buildings for their farewells.

3-3-3-3-3

Meanwhile, in some of the poorer Districts, some children Volunteered. These children were in desperate need of money, and were drawn in by the promise of fame and riches for a Victor, of never starving ever again.

No one Volunteered to take the place of the tall, blubbering, hysterical boy from 9. He was 17, was infamous around his District, and always needed money anyways.

3-3-3-3-3

Once the trains arrived at the Capitol, the Tributes and Victors were blindsided by a new addition to The Hunger Games.

"_Chariot Rides?_" Mukuro Ikusaba said, baffled, as a small swarm of Capitolites surrounded her.

"_Yes—each District gets a team of Stylists, who dress them up. Then the pair of Tributes are put in a horse-strung chariot, paraded through the Main Plaza, and stop in front of the President's Mansion for a speech_," one stiff-looking Capitolite explained.

"_THEY DIDN'T HAVE __**THIS**__ IN __**OUR**__ GAMES!" _Nekomaru exclaimed, bewildered.

"_It's a new addition_," District 2's Escort said. "_It's another time for the Tributes to make a good impression_."

Every District is led to a specific building. It's tall, covered in blue glass, and is much more pleasant-looking than the steel-reinforced buildings of the last two years.

Each District pair is led to a studio, the doors embezzled by their corresponding District number, surrounded by their Stylist team.

Mukuro and Nekomaru stand awkwardly outside Studio 2, for once unsure of what to do, and what to say.

"_Just let them do their magic_," their escort chirps, patting them both on the shoulder.

3-3-3-3-3

"_They_ _didn't have these Chariot Ride thingies in the past two years, right?_" the tan boy from District 9 asked his stylist, who was attacking his stiff hair with a large comb, and utterly failing.

"_No, it's a new addition this year. All the tributes are going to get dressed up in costumes—and the theme is based on their respective Districts_," the Capitolite growled, trying to disentangle the comb.

With a huff, the flamboyant male let go of the comb, which stuck out of the Tribute's hair. He deemed the comb a lost cause.

"_Marda, help me over here with his atrocious hair_!" the male Stylist called over to a honeycomb-haired woman.

Said woman quickly joined him, attacking the tanned boy's hair with various implements. None seemed to work. They lost five combs amidst the boy's mane of dreadlocks, and broke 3 pairs of styling scissors.

The Head Stylist finally came over, when he saw two of his companions start screaming in frustration.

Eying the bashful, nervous-looking Tribute, he simply declared, "_I like his hair. It'll go well with his costume_." The tanned boy smiled goofily, scratching said hair.

"_Now, you've both wasted too much time. Get to work on getting him in-costume!_" the Head Stylist barked, causing the two other Stylists to squeak, stumble, and apologize.

3-3-3-3-3

There is an odd rush to get the Tributes situated in their horse-drawn chariots, and complete their outfits. It's so chaotic, that the more desolate tributes aren't even contemplating hurting themselves in some form during this spectacle.

Mukuro and Nekomaru stand awkwardly next to District 2's chariot, wishing them good luck, and trying to ease their nerves. It doesn't really help, since they themselves are confused and nervous, but the sentiment is nice.

The pair exit the large, bustling, garage-like area. They talk quietly with one another over some of the odd costumes they'd caught glimpses of, before they make their way to their special reserved seat for the Chariot Rides.

3-3-3-3-3

The Capitol anthem blares, and the doors of the building's garage opens. The two Victors pay close attention as out trot a pair of white-maned horses, carrying the Tributes for District 1.

District 1, Luxury. The two are swathed in white silk, a few small jewels littering the rich cloth.

District 2's chariot rolls out, pulled by two fierce-looking black horses. Despite how utterly average their Tributes are, the Stylists dressed them to look like fierce warriors. They wear olden Roman armor, armed to the teeth with fake weapons.

The roar of the crowd is deafening, and the Victors grin, pleased. Their Tributes start waving around their weapons, yelling back to the crowd, which spurs more cheers.

District 3 rolls out, looking very awful compared to District 2, and incredibly underwhelming. Just a silver bodysuit covered in some bunches of wires.

The chariots kept pouring out, one after another. District 4 wears many pearl necklaces, the colors going well with the girl's sun-bleached hair. District 7 are lumberjacks, holding menacing fake axes. District 8 wear trendy formal clothes that look like patchwork quilts.

District 9 rolls out, and the sight is incredibly comical. The dreadlocked boy is dressed as a scarecrow, his hair pointing out, resembling a sun. He's standing tall and proud, making himself seem even taller, and is waving goofily to the crowd.

His District partner is wearing a dress with a pattern of stalks of wheat imprinted on it, and she's glaring at the comical boy. Said boy is jumping around, dancing stupidly, his hair almost poking her in the face multiple times.

The District 9 boy is one of the few Tributes to actually **do** anything, and his act rivals that of the District 2 pair.

Nekomaru can't stop laughing at him, and neither can the rest of the audience.

The rest of the chariots roll by, not particularly interesting or as eye-catching as the previous ones.

The chariots all convene in a circle in front of the President's Mansion. President White steps out onto a balcony, and welcomes the Tributes.

The Victors stand at attention, watching and listening to the most important man in all of Panem with the upmost attentiveness. Soon, the man finished his speech, and the chariots returned to the building, the Capitol anthem blaring along.

Mukuro and Nekomaru tried their best to weave through the crowd of high-end Capitolites whilst still being polite. They just wanted to go see their Tributes; they were anxious, having no prior knowledge of this event, yet still wanting to help their designated children.

3-3-3-3-3

It takes Mukuro and Nekomaru a while to locate their Tributes.

They had to learn from Demetrius—their Capitolite friend—that the Tributes received new accommodations. They no longer had to stay in small rooms in the old, steel-reinforced building.

The man in the bright-blue suit laughed, babbling about the new lavish accommodations in the tall skyscraper. Each floor held the pair of Tributes, their Mentor—or Victors, in their case—and Escort.

"_Each number of the floors corresponds with it's District—it's a really handy and easy system!"_ he exclaimed, as he led them to the front of the heavily-guarded double doors. "_Just go to the elevators, and press 2!_"

The duo shared a look, before thanking the man, and entering the building, bypassing the guards with ease. They walked around the large Ground Floor, taking in the odd lavishness of it, before heading into the elevator and following Demetrius' instructions.

The ride on the elevator is claustrophobic and gut jolting. It reminds them of entering the Arena, and they grip each other's arm tightly.

The doors open, and the two cautiously peer through. District 2's Escort suddenly pops up from the end of the hall that the elevator doors had opened to. The Capitolite quickly ushered the Victors inside the living room of the floor, where the two finally sees their Tributes.

The duo congratulate the teens on their good impressions.

"_THE CROWD LOVED YOU! The only person that gave you a run for your money was that clown kid from 9_," Nekomaru said, smiling widely, as he perched the two teens on his broad shoulders.

Mukuro shook her head fondly at her fellow Victor and his antics. He would be a good father, one day, with how he acts.

"_It's been a long day. You both need to rest_," she simply states, as she watches the man perch them on a plush couch.

"_NOT BEFORE WE TALK STRATEGY_!" the goatee-sporting man interjects. "_Or, at the very least, talking about the other tributes_," he amends quickly with a cough, when he receives a very pointed look from Mukuro.

"_Be wary of those who Volunteered_," she advised them. "_They're unpredictable, and will be the ones most willing to win_."

"_Also, those boys from 1, 7, and 10 look tough. The girls from 4 and 7, too. Keep that in mind, on top of the other advice_," the man added.

The two teens nodded, and soon the group dispersed to get some rest.

3-3-3-3-3

The next day was the first for Training. Apparently the Tributes got new accommodations, but they still had to go to the same steel building for Training.

"_Oh well. They can't revamp EVERYTHING_," Nekomaru pointed out with a disappointed sigh. "_Just TRY YOUR BEST in all the stations_!"

The Victors took their Tributes down there, akin to what Mukuro did last year for Nekomaru and Bunny Magica.

At the Training room, there was quite a significant number of Tributes attending. Much more than either of the Victors' own times.

"_The Volunteers wanted this. It makes sense that they would arrive for Training, to help prepare themselves, giving them an advantage that could help them survive_," Mukuro noted in a low voice.

"_Looks like there's a lot of guards for a real reason, now_," her partner noted, with a chuckle under his breath.

The Victor duo left the District 2 Tributes in the large room. Many of their fellow Tributes edged away from them, or glared at them.

These children have not forgotten about District 2 being such blatant Capitol lapdogs, always celebrated and adored by them. They have not forgotten that the only Victors were from this District, who massacred their fellow condemned children in large quantities.

The children in the room dispersed to different stations.

The duo from 2 went to knot-tying, to escape the fury and judgment of the other Tributes. The pair from 7 purposefully went to get target practice in a corner of a room, full of dummies and targets. The girl from 4 goes to plant identification, a guarded, calculating look on her face.

The boy from 9 wandered to the camouflage station, wanting to take his mind off of things by painting something with the paints provided.

He painted a large sun, and then joked loudly to some of the children nearby, "_Look! It's me, as a blonde!_"

The terrified, desolate kids turned their red-rimmed eyes towards him, their eyes flickering to the painting, and then back at him. The absurdity of it, plus his incredibly stupid grin, caused them to literally laugh out loud.

For those children, this was the first time they laughed since the Reaping. As the boy laughed jovially at their reaction, the others in the room turned their attention to the goofy, older boy.

The goofy tan boy went around those next few days during Training, making an absolute fool of himself in various stations. Most of the time, he did so unintentionally. He whined whenever someone—usually the girl from District 4, who found such things painfully idiotic—pointed out how stupid he was.

He almost stabbed himself in the foot with the wrong end of a spear, wrapped bandages around his eyes and tripped a trail of them surrounding his calf, hung in the air by his foot from the rope-climbing course, and whacked himself in the face with a semi-successful snare.

He also did very absurd things.

He brought in a pan half-full of water on the second day, cut up some of the edible plants with a knife from the weapons section, commenting that he was making soup. He then lugged the pan, and cooked it over a fire that he had shoved the boy from 8 out of the way from.

He also painted a dummy to 'look like his mom', and pretended that the dummy was intoxicated, its limp arm over his shoulder. He went around the second half of the second day, from station to station, like this, talking loudly to the dummy.

The girl from Four asked him if his mother got intoxicated often. He grinned brightly and said, "_Nope! That's my Dad_!" The serious-faced girl gave him a pitying look, and shook her head, her two braids swishing. She then pat his unoccupied shoulder, before scrubbing said hand with a cloth from the first aid section.

On the third day, before the judging, the District 9 boy started making 'blunts' out of items from the edible plants and snares stations, and tried alighting them at the fire making station.

He shrieked when his hair caught on fire for bending over the flames so closely, yelling loudly, "_Stop, drop, and roll! Stop, drop, and roll!"_ as he furiously rolled on the floor of the room. The girl that had approached him yesterday simply strolled over calmly, and upended a pitcher of water over him, which she had procured from a corner table that held refreshments.

The sheer amount of his idiocy was **astounding**. Many couldn't believe that someone **that** stupid had actually existed, until they saw and experienced it for themselves. The girl from 4 felt her IQ drop each time she witnessed the boy doing something.

It caused everyone to laugh, though, and it almost made the Tributes forget that they were going to die in a few days.

The feeling slammed into them, when they were taken aside to start the process of getting their skills judged.

3-3-3-3-3

The judging was a long process, but soon enough the Tributes were back in their suites, waiting for the television to broadcast their scores.

The girl from 1 scored a 3. The boy scored a 6—a very moderate score.

The girl from 2 scored a 3, and she sighed. The boy scored a 6, which caused him to grin.

Mukuro and Nekomaru congratulated their Tributes, all the same. 6 was a score they could work with—it was on the higher end of the scale.

District 3 passed with low scores. The girl from District 4—_Kyoko Mizuki_—got a 5, moderate score to go with her sharp, icy demeanor.

The only notable scores came when District 7 showed up. Both scored 7s, in an ironic twist of fate.

This made the Victors nervous. So far, 7 was the highest for these Games.

Then came the boy from 9. _Yasuhiro Hagakure_ flashed along the screen, as well as the score of 4.

His District partner's mouth dropped—she had only scored a 3, and 4 was an average score.

The score wasn't high, but it surprised all the Tributes who had witnessed the oddity and stupidity of Yasuhiro Hagakure. Everyone was sure that he would have scored the first ever 1.

He sure was full of surprises.

3-3-3-3-3

The day of the Interviews was a rush, as Stylist teams from the Chariot Rides barged into the District accommodations. The teams tittered over the Tributes, using the extra time and mellowness of this new batch to their advantage.

The Victors found the spectacle overwhelming, feeling it unnecessary. However, the District 2 Tributes so far had never fought against getting dressed, or caused any problems. The changes were for the outlier Districts, the more feral and furious children.

The Capitol would tame these Tributes, by God, and they will finally shape the Hunger Games to be something spectacular.

3-3-3-3-3

The bustle of the Interview preparations made many Tributes nervous, but it also made their minds overload, causing them to not lash out as much as previous doomed children had before. And there were more hands to force them into **proper** clothing, so it was stupid to try resisting.

Why, some of these odd Capitolites were actually **nice**. They pampered them, like odd aliens doing frivolous experiments.

Yasuhiro certainly wasn't afraid of them. He found them just as comical and stupid as they found him to be.

"_I don't think you can do much for my hair, for serious_," he commented to the Stylists, as the two from before tried attacking his hair again.

"_He's right. Just…Find a thick band, and tie his hair back into a ponytail. Slick it down to make it stay with copious gel, if you have to—Just make sure his sun and palm-tree hybrid hairstyle doesn't go on that stage_!" the Head Stylist ordered to the bumbling duo.

"_Whoa! It's never been compared to a tree before_!" the boy with the impossible hair exclaimed, giving a laugh.

The Stylists worked even more furiously to tame his hair after that comment.

3-3-3-3-3

The lights of the stage were blinding, and the crowd was deafening.

The Victors bid their Tributes good luck backstage, and then hurried off to their front-row seats.

First came the girl from 1, who was frozen in place, getting stage fright. She had to be coaxed to her seat by the Host. She answered the questions posed to her in a quivering voice.

The blonde boy from 1 was much more confident, playing up his strength to the crowd. He got a very positive response.

The girl from 2 stepped onto the stage, in a steel-gray dress. She tried to seem confident and charming as the Victors, to make up for her low score. The crowd responded well to her.

The boy from 2 strolled onto the stage in a smart red suit, waving and smiling, full of energy. He was incredibly good-natured and charming. When posed a question of his thoughts on the Victors, he quickly exclaimed that he idolized them, and had even trained a bit with Nekomaru Nidai.

The two Victors in the crowd smiled, as the Capitolites roared with approval. They even got their faces caught on camera and displayed on the television screen behind the Host and boy. They waved merrily.

Tribute after tribute stepped on stage, some forced, others simply walking out of their own volition. Kyoko from 4 was incredibly serious and blank-faced, talking in an even, intelligent voice. The pair from 7 were fierce and sure of themselves, gaining favor and excited cheers from the crowd.

Then Yasuhiro Hagakure stepped onto the stage, hair tied back in a smart ponytail. The hairstyle, as well as the small bit of facial hair on his chin, made him seem older. His smart black suit helped with the image.

He took another step, and promptly tripped, falling flat on his face.

After giving an over exaggerated whine, whilst the crowd burst into laughter, he bumbled his way to sit next to the Host.

"_So, Yasuhiro_—" the Host started.

"_Just call me Hiro, man! It's what all my friends call me!_" Hiro cut in with a wide grin.

"_Ah, forgive me! So, Hiro_…" the man said, starting the Interview properly.

The tan boy gave very comical, very **stupid** answers to all the questions posed. When asked about his family, his face lit up, and he waved excitingly to the cameras. "_Hey, Mom! My hair's finally not a mess! It's a miracle!_"

His entire interview made everyone laugh so hard, they cried. The boy could've been a comedian, or had a television series.

When the buzzer sounded for his time to end, Hiro stood up—and stubbed his foot on the chair. He jumped around on one foot, holding the injured one in his hands while he howled, and the crowd burst into one last bought of laughter.

Hiro somehow managed to blow every other Interview out of the water, just from the comicalness of being himself. It was a hard act to follow, that even the somewhat tough-looking boy from District 10 flew under the crowd's radar.

It was just incredibly baffling that a man that was almost 19 could be so…_Moronic_.

3-3-3-3-3

"_That Hiro kid was more popular than I thought_," Nekomaru commented, as he scratched the back of his head.

The Victor duo had just escorted their Tributes back to their suite, and were discussing the Interviews.

"_He's cheerful and likeable—but he's too much of a bumbling fool to be a threat_," Mukuro said. "_Being comical won't help him in the Arena_."

"_Guess you're right. Meanwhile, you two did great in your Interviews! You showed some SPIRIIIIIT_!" Nekomaru boomed happily, as he crushed both teens in a side-hug.

"_Yes, you both did. Now, get some rest. Sleep will be hard to come by later on_," Mukuro advised them, voice firm. The two teens nodded.

"_Keep your eyes peeled on the other tributes. Don't trust anyone, stick together, work as a team. PROTECT each other, FIGHT for one another. Don't let them tear you apart_," the burly man advised, showing true seriousness for once.

His face darkened with the last sentence he uttered, remembering the death of his District partner, Bunny. Mukuro's face also froze over, her own partner's peaceful face imprinted once more in her mind.

The two tributes nodded firmly, the room as serious as a graveyard.

"_Now, go to bed_," the woman said softly, sagging, suddenly feeling tired. The two teens showed their wariness as well, as they bid the Victors goodnight, and slowly meandered their way to their rooms.

The man put his arm around his companion, pulling her into a firm side-hug, and she lay her head on his shoulder.

They hoped their Tributes wouldn't have to go through the horror of witnessing one another's horrid death.


	5. III Part 2 (Hiro and Beta Kyoko)

**AN**: School is slowly killing me, but enough on that. This chapter is the actual Games. And let me tell you, they're much longer than the previous 2, because of various reasons that will pop up in the chapter itself.

There's a Part 3 to this, which is the post-game.

* * *

><p>III Part 2 [Hiro+Beta!Kyoko]<p>

Victor of the 3rd Hunger Games

3-3-3-3-3

The Stylist teams burst into each suite the next morning, waking their Tributes, and dressing them in their Arena clothing. The clothes were simple, like last year. Soon enough, the children were on hovercrafts.

All the Tributes were coaxed into plexiglass tubes, to ready them for launch into the Arena. The process was much smoother than it had been in the last two years. The children seemed to have a better grasp of decorum, or perhaps of what was to come.

Some didn't even need coaxing. The pair from 2 stepped in instantly. Kyoko from 4 stared at the tube, seemingly calculating something in her mind, before calmly and promptly entering. The duo from 7 entered with determination. The boy from 10 moved his large body inside, despite how reduced and claustrophobic the process was.

The person that took the longest to fit in the tube properly was Yasuhiro Hagakure. His hair was much too large and stiff, causing him to get stuck at the entrance.

His Stylist team had to be dragged onto the Hovercraft to tame his hair, and put it in a smaller, more manageable style, just so his head could fit through the opening. With copious amounts of gel, combs that were used to groom lions, a large band, and lots of elbow grease, they managed to coax his mane of dreadlocks into a ponytail.

Hiro laughed nervously, a very weak, thin sound. "_H-Hey, it's the same style I had d-during the Interviews! Ahaha…_" he murmured, before many pairs of hands pushed him into the launching tube.

When the opening closed, the tan boy began to panic. "_H-Hey, this is r-really freaky and s-small, ya know! Let me out_!" he cried, banging on the heavy glass.

The steel under him began to move, and he started to rise. He cried in shock, frantically banging on the glass, as he was slowly taken to his doom.

"_I can't do this! Oh God, I can't do this! I'm gonna die! Someone save meeeee!_" the boy wailed, finally and fully coming into the realization of his doom.

3-3-3-3-3

The steel plates rose, clicking into place. The Tributes looked around nervously, taking in their surroundings.

Like in the last two years, the children were on platforms, spread evenly apart, in the form of a circle.

There was a steel structure in the middle of this circle—but this time, it wasn't in the shape of a shack. Rather, it was shaped as a large horn—a cornucopia, with supplies spilling out of it.

The supplies were more plentiful this year than of last ones. There were many large backpacks, racks and piles and weapons, crates and bags of food—it was as if it was a true festive cornucopia.

Most of the bounty was in that steel structure, but some items were scattered about, between the horn and the platforms.

Kyoko from 4 noted that the changes to the structure went with the changes to the Games this year. It represented the 'plentiful bounty' for both the Victor and their home District. It also went along well with the lottery drawing being dubbed the Reaping.

The platforms were in a clearing, surrounded by large trees. Only the tributes from District 7 and 12 knew that this wasn't the same Arena as last year, from the types of trees and thick vegetation surrounding them.

The trees were a mix of tall Oaks and Hickorys, which the 7 duo recognized. This forest resembled the one surrounding District 12, which was how the desolate, poor duo from 12 knew of such a fact.

The countdown neared its end. Many Tributes tensed.

The boy from 1, the duo from 2, the girl from 4, the duo from 7, and the boy from 10 tensed to run straight into the mouth of the large horn. Those from the outer Districts who had Volunteered, and were not part of the first list, were training their sights on certain items scattered about—mostly backpacks or weapons.

The boy from 9 stood panicking on his pedestal, squawking and blubbering stupidly.

"_This can't be happening! God, Buddha, Zeus, Santa Claus, Mister President, Aliens—whatever entity out there, save meeeeeee!_" he wailed, tears streaming down his face, as he reached out to the heavens.

The countdown ended, and a gong rang.

Instantly, the Tributes who were preparing to run bolted for it. A handful of weaker children sprinted to take cover into the trees, running away from the bloodbath that would surely commence.

The boy from 2 was in the mouth of the horn first, those occasional, intense jogs with Victor Nekomaru paying off. He quickly grabbed a weapon and slung a pack on his back, at the same time.

He whirled around, and stabbed at the girl from 7 with his sword. He stabbed her in the gut, but she had just grabbed an axe, and it didn't seem like she would go down easily.

The girl's District partner showed up, grabbing the other axe in the weapons pile. The boys from 10 and 1, as well as Kyoko. grabbed weapons and a pack whilst the 3 fought.

The girl from 2 wailed as her District partner suddenly got mobbed by not only the pair from 7, but the boy from 10 as well. She grabbed a nearby pack, and turned tail to run.

The other Tributes who had stayed to chance on getting supplies were fighting over essentials such as backpacks, weapons, and food. Those who had such things—like the girl with the sun-bleached braids from 4—were already heading to the trees.

Hiro stood frozen on his plate, still blubbering, staring at the fighting happening in front of him. A knife suddenly whizzed towards him, and he yelped, ducking. The sharp implement got stuck in his ponytail, and he ripped it out of the hard hair.

With shaky legs, he stumbled off the steel platform. In a sudden spur of the moment, he sprinted diagonally across the clearing, picking up the small amount of items in his path.

He managed to make it to the trees in the South, and began running and weaving through the thick foliage, screaming and crying all the while.

He ran frantically, terrified, for about an hour. He'd stopped screaming nonstop after only ten minutes, and now he was simply barreling loudly through the thick underbrush.

He wasn't sure how many cannons went off for the dead. He lost count after 4 or so booms.

He finally stopped and collapsed at the base of a wide tree, noting the items he procured in the clearing. The knife that got stuck in his hair would obvious serve as his self-defense weapon.

He noted that he had some type of large steel bottle. A fancy canister or container, almost the size of the hard liquor bottles his father was fond of. It would be useful for carrying water—but it was empty.

A large package of rations. It said on the plastic that it was good for 3 meals. It even had instructions for if you wanted to further ration the food provided.

A coil of rope. He wasn't sure how long it was, but it could make about 3 of the basic snares he'd tried out during Training.

A package of dried meat jerky, which he had shoved in his jacket pocket when he'd picked it up. It wasn't much, but it could last him, if he just chewed on small pieces for long stretches of time, like a cow who had some grass.

It certainly wasn't a huge pack, and a big deadly weapons, like the past Victors… But these things were better than nothing, really. Some kids just got out of dodge right away, and didn't have any supplies to speak of.

With an oddly large amount of seriousness and resolution, Hiro decided that he would make do with what he had, and he would try to win.

Even if being in the Hunger Games was **really** fucking terrifying.

3-3-3-3-3

Nekomaru held Mukuro, as she cried into his shoulder.

One of their Tributes was dead. The girl had seen her partner go down in an awful way, just as they had feared.

"_We_ _just need to hope that she can run and hide, until the finale_," the man told the woman, as tears fell down his face as well.

"_She's so weak…Only got a 3…No training or skill_…" Mukuro said, voice barely a whisper.

Both Victors were shrouded in dread, clinging to one another, as if they were clinging to a lifeline.

It would only get worse, if the female tribute dies on them.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro walked around the forest in a more cautious and calm manner. He was still incredibly paranoid and nervous, but he wasn't bumbling around and screaming, like before.

Hiro had shoved the jerky back in his pocket, and had tied the package of rations to his side with the coil of rope. This helped make sure that his food was safely on his person, and free his hands to defend himself. He had his knife in his dominant hand, and the large bottle in the other.

He was slowly chewing on a very tough piece of jerky. It helped quell his hunger, and soothed him, calming him from going in a panicked frenzy.

He was trying to find a pond or river for water. He didn't know where to start looking, so he simply walked in one direction, hoping to come across something.

Night fell, and he hadn't crossed into another living thing, if one didn't count the bugs. Hiro stopped to sit back against a tree. He didn't trust himself on climbing and staying in one—he'd probably fall and break his neck.

He slowly unwounded the rope held around him, opening his ration package for the first time. He ate half a meal. Then he carefully resealed and rewrapped the package, tying it back onto his side.

A few minutes passed, and then the Capitol anthem blared, making him jump slightly. He stared at the sky, as the faces of the dead flashed by.

The girl from 1, then the boy from 2. The boy from 3. Then it skipped to the girl from 7. Both from 8.

His District partner's face flashed on the sky, and he sighed sadly. They weren't close or very friendly, but she was from home.

Then came the girl from 10, followed by the girl from 11. The broadcast ended with the picture of the 11 boy, which stayed in the night sky for a few extra seconds, before fizzling away.

10 dead on the first day. At least this time, it didn't come from just one person, with the help of some suicides in the mix.

Hiro sighed. The fight at the clearing wasn't one-sided. Kids were actually fighting and killing each other for supplies…

He wasn't sure if that was worse, or not.

Giving a tired sigh, he lay his head back, using his hair as a cushion against the rough bark. Then he slept like a rock, snoring and drooling.

3-3-3-3-3

"_No, not the aliens_!" Yasuhiro Hagakure shrieked, as he flailed his knife around him in terror, still half-asleep. He'd just had a terrifying, bizarre nightmare.

Hiro opened his eyes, thinking he wouldn't meet anything scary. The aliens grabbing him and trying to throttle him was just a dream, right?

His eyes widened, at the sight before him.

The girl from 5 was bleeding out right in front of him, multiple gashes and a large stab wound on her body.

The two stared down at said wound, which was on her chest, barely having missed the heart. A knife was sticking out of it.

**His** knife.

Hiro stared at horror at the knife, then at the girl, then at his hand. His hand was covered in blood. And not just his hand—blood was on the front of his jacket, too.

The girl keeled over, sinking onto the ground, her breaths ragged. The morning dawn light shone down on her, making her glow softly, especially her blond hair. Her lips moved silently, as if she was trying to say something, perhaps praying.

Then she closed her eyes, and she stilled. A cannon boomed in the distance.

"_Holy shit_," he breathed, eyes as wide as plates. "_I just…killed someone_."

He stared down at his hand once more, shaking his head in denial.

"_Just a nightmare…I'm gonna wake up, Mom yelling at me to not miss school again. Dad's gonna be passed on the couch. I'll go and smoke with my friends in the bathroom, like always…_"

He stood up on shaky legs, stumbling over to the dead girl. He sunk to his knees, staring at the platinum blonde, reaching out tentatively to the knife sunk in her chest.

He ripped the knife out with his bloodied hand. It felt real. The blood felt real, too.

With blank eyes, he stared at her. Then he started to furiously wipe his bloodied hand on the side of her leg, which was spotless. He got off most of the sticky blood. After that, he wiped the knife with one of the sleeves of her jacket.

He stood up, returning to his tree to pick up his forgotten water canister. Then without another look back, he started walking away from the girl's corpse.

"_Man, I'm thirsty_," he muttered, still a bit in denial. He decided to head Southwest, away from where the dead girl had come from, but still going South as he had been before.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro finally stumbled across a river, after 2 hours of trekking. He cheered happily, completely forgetting that Tributes could be nearby, and rushed towards the sparkling water.

He filled up his canister, and drunk greedily from it, uncaring of the cleanliness of the water. He reasoned that it **looked** clean—much cleaner than the water in his District—so it should be okay to drink.

He drank copious amounts of the liquid, filling his belly. Then he filled the large water container, capping it off, and sealing it tightly.

He then washed the blood off of himself as much as he could. He sighed at the dark stains in the front of his jacket, which were still visible, if a bit muted. "_Now I know how Mom feels when she does the laundry…_" he mused aloud.

After that was done, he realized that he really had to go. He urinated in a far-off tree, and noted that his urine wasn't a muddy yellow-brown as it had been last night. Good. He didn't have to worry about dehydration, from having the river near…

Nothing else eventful happened that day for him. He managed to catch some small fish from the river, after sticking his ponytail in the water and entrapping the poor creatures in his dreads.

He's not even sure of the logic in that, but hey, he had fish!

He managed to make a small fire near the river **without** setting himself aflame, after a bit of difficulty, and cooked the fish. He then put out the fire and smoke, and went walking back the way he came. There had been a promising clearing five minutes away he would make camp at.

He stayed there, only slightly on his guard. He took to passing playing with his tarot cards—the one item he could take from home into the Arena, as his 'District Token'.

One of his readings was that good fortune was coming his way soon. He snorted at the irony. Then he took up his cards, re-shuffled them, and did another reading.

He'd had the ultimate **bad** fortune of getting Reaped for the Hunger Games, when he was 2 weeks from turning 19. He didn't believe he had any good fortune coming in the future.

Night fell, and Hiro perked up, looking through the canopy of trees to see who had died.

The boy from 4.

Then came the picture of the girl from 5, and Hiro winced.

"_Didn't happen_," he told himself under his breath, with a small shiver. He broke himself out of his reverie, when he noted the next face.

The girl from 6, followed closely by the boy.

14 dead. Was he already in the final ten so soon? It was barely day 2…

With a shrug, Hiro rearranged his possessions, tuckering in for another night's sleep.

Although this time, he would wake a few times, rather than sleep like a rock.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro woke during the early morning of the third day, surveying his home base. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell.

Except for a large rustling in the bushes.

Adrenaline pumping in his veins, Hiro raised his water canister—which he had been about to drink out of—to attack. When a figure came out of the bushes, he moved forwards, cracking the bottle down hard over their head.

It was the tiny girl from 3, and she lay dead at his feet, blood pooling from around her head wound. A cannon went off.

Hiro gaped down at the girl, who was all skin and bones.

From what he could see, she had nothing on her—no weapons or supplies.

He stared down at the black hair that was drenched in red, his eyes watering, as a wave of shame rushed over him.

He killed a little girl, who had either stumbled across his place at the wrong time, or simply wanted to ask him for some food. A little girl, who had been starving, who didn't even have anything on her, who couldn't have done him any harm.

Hiro slumped down on his knees, holding his head in his hand, and wailed hysterically.

"_Who'd be stupid enough to not give a warning when they want to talk to you in the Hunger Games?! You could've at least **said** something! I hate eating that nasty dry bread from the rations—I would've given it to you, no sweat, for serious_!"

After wailing for a good two minutes, Hiro sighed, tired. He grudgingly got to his feet, heading over to his camp, and readied all his supplies.

He checked a nearby snare, seeing that it caught nothing, and disassembled it. Taking the small length of rope, he tied and looped it around his water canister, fastening that around himself as well.

Maybe he wouldn't accidentally kill a girl on the **other** side of the river…

3-3-3-3-3

Going on the other side of the river turned out to be a bad idea.

Hiro stumbled across a very angry black bear. Whilst finishing up the last of his fish.

A horrible combination.

Giving a shriek, Hiro turned tail and ran, whilst the best roared behind him.

He tried maneuvering around the trees, tripping over roots and his own feet multiple times. But he didn't fall—he wouldn't let himself fall and be mauled by a bear, damn it!

He suddenly rammed into something soft and solid, which definitely **wasn't** a tree.

Hiro had barreled into the girl from 2, causing her to fall and crash to the ground.

"_Run! Bear!"_ the tan boy howled, running around the girl's fallen form. The girl stared wide-eyed in horror at said incoming bear, and scrambled to her feet, sprinting away after Hiro.

"_Hey, stop following me_!" the tall boy whined, as he bumbled his way through the forest, the girl from 2 close on his trail.

He gave a glance behind his shoulder to glare at her, but caught sight of the large animal, which was starting to get closer to them.

Hiro, with nary a second thought, struck his arms out. In a swift, sudden motion, he shoved the running girl towards the angry bear.

He kept running, and didn't look back, even when he heard the girl's piercing shriek as she hit the ground once more.

Fearful tears streamed down his face, as he heard the roars and pained shrieks of the beast and girl intermingling behind him. But he ran on, suddenly turning left to run Northwest, away from the mauling that he had caused.

He hadn't ran far, when the a cannon boomed.

3-3-3-3-3

Mukuro and Nekomaru stared at the television screen, eyes wide, color drained from their faces.

They watched as their final Tribute died viciously, via being mauled by a bear.

"**_No_**," Mukuro uttered, the strangled word barely escaping her tight throat. She then gave a sob, tears falling quickly down her angular face

"_THAT COWAAAAARD_!" Nekomaru roared, voice breaking. Tears ran down his face in rivers, as he wailed loudly in aguish. "_IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HIIIIIIM_!"

This had been the first time that both District 2 Tributes had died, the first time that the Victor duo lost both their Tributes.

And already, it was incredibly unbearable.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro wandered desolately, trying to find the river once more, which he had lost when he'd been chased by the bear.

He stumbled and collapsed, too tired to keep moving. He lay on his side, his energy gone.

After laying there for half an hour, he slowly sat up, and broke into his rations once more. He ate the next half of the ration meal, feeling too desolate to care about preserving food.

"_One and a half pieces of jerky…Full canister of water… Two full ration meals_," he counted off.

He was set for two more days of the Games, with what he had. If he could find the river again, he wouldn't have to worry about food or water.

Wrapping everything up again, he unsteadily got to his feet, decided to keep walking. Maybe he could find the river, or at least find a good place to camp.

After wandering sluggishly for hours, night was fast approaching. Hiro finally found a decent spot to stop and rest.

He plopped down tiredly, resting his heavy body against the base of the sturdy tree. He ate a fourth of a ration meal, and took a gulp of water. Then he waited for the death toll.

The first face was the girl from 2.

"_The Victors must be soooo pissed_," Hiro noted tonelessly, with a wince. He'd just caused the last of their Tributes to die a horrible death, after all.

"_They probably want to kill me with their bare hands…_" he muttered aloud, cringing when he realized what he just said. "_T-That was a bad choice of words_…"

Before he could keep imagining Mukuro Ikusaba and Nekomaru Nidai torturing him for his ill deeds, the next picture flashed onto the sky. The girl from 3. Hiro cringed once more.

The boy from 5 soon appeared. Finally, came the boy from 12.

"_So…18 dead_," he calculated, saying it aloud. "_That's 6 left, right? There's me, the girl from 12, the boy from 1…The girl from 4, I think... And then the boys from 7 and 10_."

Hiro nodded to himself. "_Tough competition. Goldilocks, Lumberjack, and Cowboy are tough guys… But something tells me that Kyoko and Charcoal shouldn't be counted out just yet_."

With a frown, the tan boy tried to situate himself for another night's rest.

That night he barely got any, haunted by the shadows and monsters in the night, his victims, and his fellow competitors.

3-3-3-3-3

It was the start of the 4th day for the 3rd Annual Hunger Games, and many Capitolites were baffled that the goofy comedic-relief was still alive.

Granted, he was very amusing and lovable, but many thought his stupidity and clumsiness would get himself killed.

So far, it had actually **saved** him. The boy's fans were rather happy of how far he's stayed alive.

Meanwhile, the outlier Districts were rooting for the boy from 9 or the girl from 12 to win. Districts 9 and 12 wanted the year's worth of spoils that came when someone claimed Victory, being some of the poorest Districts in Panem.

They believed that the richer Districts—the Capitol's lapdogs—had won much too much. It was time for the poorer ones to win, to have **some** hope.

All they could do was wait, hoping that the alliance of the boys from 7 and 10 didn't kill their two underdogs. For Districts 7 and 10, they were waiting anxiously to see which boy was stronger than the other.

3-3-3-3-3

It was the morning of Day 4, and Hiro had just eaten breakfast. He had barely slept, but the half ration meal helped energize him slightly. He got up, deciding to keep looking for the river.

The canon came after about an hour of him walking. He hoped it was one of the boys. So far, he'd proven that he could kill girls without really trying; he didn't think he would have that luck with a fellow male.

He wandered, feeling like he was lost. Again, he cursed himself for not knowing anything about tracking or finding a water source. The Games had been so much easier, when he had a readily available source of food and water—almost comfortable.

Right when he was about to give up and simply hibernate, he heard a sound. Slowly heading east, the sound got louder, more distinguished. His heart leapt in joy, when he realized he recognized the sound: running water.

Rushing forwards weakly, Hiro arrived in front of the river once more. He drank his current supply of water, and refilled it quickly in the rushing waters.

He noted that the water was quicker. He must've moved far from his original vantage point, for the speed of the river to be so different.

He filled his belly with water, and then managed to catch three small fish. With confidence, he went and set a snare nearby. Then he scaled the fish—which were too small to properly gut with his large hands.

Hiro had a fire going, three fish, and a squirrel. He cooked the food, then quickly put the fire out, and moved cautiously along the river, away from the smoke and aroma he created.

3-3-3-3-3

Settling down about ten minutes from his previous spot, in a thick grove, he ate the fish he had cooked.

That's when a canon boomed, and Hiro stiffened.

"_Final Four_," he muttered, his eyes flickering around wildly. He then started to eat his squirrel quickly, ferociously.

After that, he gulped down some water, and then ate what was left of the second meal in the package he always tied to his side.

Making sure that his knife and bottle were in each hand, he cautiously walked to the river. Looking around in paranoia, he drank a long drag from the bottle, and then refilled it.

One full metal water canister. One knife. One packaged ration meal. 2 pieces of rope. That's what supplies he had, for the final four.

Or rather, the finale. The numbers always dwindled quickly, when so few Tributes were left.

With upmost care and paranoia, Hiro walked in between the river and the tree line.

Somehow, he wasn't careful enough. Because before he knows it, he suddenly disturbs and gets chased by **another** black bear.

With a squawk, Hiro starts sprinting Northeast. The river is always to his right, the bear always right behind him.

"_I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna **die**_!" the boy screeches, as he runs as quickly as possible. A knife and bottle are no match for a full-grown bear; if the beast catches him, he's done for.

In a twist of fate, he bursts through a particularly large patch of underbrush. He runs straight past the boys from 7 and 10, who are glaring at one another furiously, both covered in injuries.

The glaring duo stare at the tan boy in utter bewilderment and shock. They are frozen on the spot, not even able to move towards him.

That's when the bear crashes through, roaring angrily, and starts slashing at the two unsuspecting boys.

Hiro keeps sprinting, scathingly noting that the element of surprise seems to be one of his strong suits.

One cannon goes off whilst he runs. The other goes off half an hour later.

"_Two down_," he says, voice desolate, as he leans heavily against a tree to catch his breath. "_One to go_."

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro keeps jogging, simply wandering the forest. It's turning into evening.

Periodically checking his surroundings, he finally sits down to eat the last full ration meal he has. "_I'll need my strength for the finale_," he says aloud, reasoning quite logical.

He notes that his canister is still half-full. He decides to leave it as it is; the water adds weight to it, and it'll be a better weapon that way.

He loosens and ties the pieces of rope around his waist once more. This time, he uses a very simple, easy to disentangle knot. It's a precaution, in case both him and his opponent are bleeding out. He can make a tourniquet with the rope, or he can strangle his opponent.

He brushes his hair out of his face. During the second chase from a black bear, he somehow lost the thick band that had held it back. Now, his dreads were standing up in their usual gravity-defying fashion.

Hiro stands up, knife in one hand, bottle in another, rope tied around his waist, hair shaped like a sun, and a look of pure determination on his face.

"_I guess most would ask the audience on what they should do next, right_?" Hiro says, head tilted up towards the sky.

"_But since the Victors from last Games did a pretty good job with just their intuition, I'm gonna guess that the finale's gonna go down in a clearing. And the only proper clearing I know of is the one at the start of the Games. The only problem is how I'm gonna find it again, for serious._"

He pauses, still staring at the sky, as if waiting for something.

He gets the sign he's been waiting for, as a sudden, large beam of light shines down towards the East. It's yellow, soft, circular—like a dimmed stage light, only on a larger scale.

Hiro gives a lopsided grin. "_Thanks_."

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro simply follow the signal he's given. Apparently, all he had needed to do was to head Southeast to reach the clearing once more.

He's about to step into said clearing, when he hears a whizzing sound. Acting on instinct, he ducks behind a tree.

A knife is planted in the tree behind him. He rips said knife out of the bark, sticking it in the waistband of his pants.

"_Hey now, that wasn't very nice_!" he calls out, still shielding himself behind the tree. "_We can't have a proper battle, if you just try gutting me before I can even step into the clearing_!"

He cautiously peers around the tree, rearing his head back once more at the incoming projectiles. This time, darts get stuck in the tree.

"_We can play this aaaall day, and soon enough you're gonna run out of long-ranged weapons! There's too many trees for me to hind behind, ya know_!" he calls out once more, heart beating rapidly.

"_You're right_," comes a soft voice, the sound managing to reach his ears. He gives an internal groan. He recognized that voice—it was the girl from 4. So he'd be killing **another** girl to get home…

"_I'll allow you to enter the clearing, so we can end this_," the girl says, voice louder.

Hiro peeks his head out, rearing it back once more. But nothing flies towards him. It seems that Kyoko is being truthful. Half his body leaves the safety of the tree. Again, no other weapons come.

With confidence, he fully steps out from behind his makeshift shield, and walks slowly into the grassy clearing.

"_You're really smart for making it this far. You were always really serious and intimidating and smart-looking_," Hiro noted with a grin, as he walked towards the girl with the sun-bleached hair.

Kyoko Mizuki looks almost untouched, just a bit ruffled. Her hair has managed to stay in its customary twin braids. There are no serious injuries, or even blood, on her person.

"_I've managed to avoid confrontation with Tributes, and have even escaped the threat of the boys from 7 and 10. To be frank, I was considering one of them to be my final opponent, my first and only kill_," Kyoko explains with a calm voice.

"_Now, Hiro, if you would be so kind as to stumble and fall onto my knife a good ten times, that would be very much appreciated_," she adds, a corner of her mouth moving upwards into a quirking grin.

A laugh bursts out of his mouth. "_I didn't know you could even tell a joke, Kyoko! Didn't think someone so serious had it in them! But nah, I'm afraid not_."

"_Ya see, I was kinda half-hoping that I'd be facing a guy. It'd be a harder fight, but at least I wouldn't have to kill another girl to survive,"_ the tan boy admits, the grin on his face turning grim._ "I've learned so far that no matter what I do, I always end up killing girls. So, sorry 'bout this, but I'm gonna have to kill ya._"

The two were now cautiously squaring off, moving slowly in circles. Kyoko was armed with various throwing knives—most likely having gotten them from the cornucopia, as she had arrived before him.

She suddenly threw a knife at him, and he ducked. It got stuck in his hair.

Suddenly, a plan burst into his head. It was a either a brilliant one, or a brilliantly stupid one. But it could win him his life.

Putting his head down, Hiro suddenly charged towards Kyoko, as if he was a bull. She threw another knife at him, but his hair shielded him from the blow.

Kyoko's sharp eyes widened as the taller, older, stronger Tribute rammed into her. As she fell, he brought his arm upwards, quickly cracking his steel instrument on her head.

She managed to dodge slightly, only getting hit in the temple. But it was still a hard enough blow to make her disoriented.

She tried grasping for her weapons, but realized that she dropped most of them during the tan boy's attack.

Capitalizing on her defenselessness, Hiro quickly pinned her down with the weight of his body. He thanked his friends and his Dad in his mind, for always having roughhoused with him.

Quickly raising his knife, he plunged it down, once, twice, thrice, in quick succession. The searing pain in his side—from Kyoko having managed to stab him—didn't detract from his attack.

A cannon suddenly boomed, and Hiro jerked. He looked down at the bleeding corpse under him. Then he quickly stumbled off of her.

A voice boomed throughout the area. "_Congratulations, on the Victor of the 3rd Annual Hunger Games!_"

Yasuhiro Hagakure stilled, staring at nothing. Then he wept, a mixture of frustration, joy, relief, despair, self-loathing, bitterness, hope, sadness, gratefulness, and tiredness.

He killed 3 young girls with his bare hands, shoved one towards a ferocious bear, and got 2 guys mauled by another bear.

But he was **alive**.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro was soon picked up in a hovercraft, his Escort, Capitol Mentor, and Stylist team surrounding him. They babbled happily, congratulating him, and he gave a weak smile.

Then he promptly passed out.

He woke up again in some sort of hospital room. The Capitolite who mentored him gave him a warm smile, right by his bedside.

"_Once you're fully recovered, you'll get prepped for an Interview, before going home_," the oddly dressed woman told him, voice soothing.

"_I thought that was just for the Capitol's favorites_," he said weakly, looking around cautiously at his surroundings, eyes never stopping from moving.

"_Oh, Hiro, you **are** a favorite_!" she told him quickly.

"_But it's also now a set tradition for each Victor to have a final Interview, before going home. During the Interview, they've added something as well—Recaps of the Games. Then six months after your win, they'll send you on a Victory Tour—akin to Victors Mukuro and Nekomaru_."

"_Oh_," he said dumbly, mind reeling. "_So I guess it's all just…official and stuff, now… Along with those extra perks. Right._"

She pat his cheek. "_Just be ready for the Interview and Recaps, and you can worry about the Tour later_."

"_Will do_."

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro takes the stage, goofy smile in place, and manages to not stumble and fall when he reaches the Host.

Aurelius Roadburg, the Host of the Interviews, welcomes the new Victor graciously. He asks the tan boy some questions over the Games—who responds with nervous half-answers, stumbling often over his words. The two—along with the audience—laughs at the Victor's odd humor.

"_Now, the moment I'm sure we've all been waiting for…The Recaps for the 3rd Annual Huuuunger Gaaaaames_!" Aurelius exclaims with a flourish. A large screen flickers to life, off to the side, and everyone turns to watch.

Hiro watches as they passed some of the Reapings. The boy from 1, the duo from 2, Kyoko, the duo from 7, his own Reaping, and the boy from 10 are featured prominently. They are interspersed with quick flashes of the girls from 3, 5 and 12, as well as the volunteers from the outlier Districts.

Then comes the Chariot Rides. District 1, 2, 4, and 7 get the spotlight. Then the entirety of District 9's Chariot—as well as Hiro's goofy act—is shown. The Chariot Ride is rounded off by 10 and 12's chariots, as well as a shortened version of the President's address.

Training scores flash by quickly, of the same prominent Districts. The Interviews come next. The boy from 1 and the duo from 2 get theirs partially shown. Then the entirety of Kyoko's passes.

Hiro blinks, trying to force down the guilt of having killed such a smart girl, who could have done something great with her life.

Parts of the 7 duo's Interviews pass, as well as a part of his District partner's. Then the entirety of his comical Interview is shown. Then passed a portion of the boy from 10, and the girl from 12.

The countdown is shown entirely, using split screens to show many of the tributes. Of course, Hiro's blubbering was the spotlight, and the crowd laughed whilst, Hiro sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

He finally gets to see what the hell was happening during that rush in the clearing. He watches as some of the weaker Tributes sprint away into the trees, whilst the boy from 2 reaches the Cornucopia first. Then the battle between him and the pair from 7, whilst the boy from 1, the boy from 10, and Kyoko grabbed supplies.

They showed the boy from 10 joining into the fight against the District 2 boy, and his District partner's reaction and subsequent fleeing. Goldilocks and Kyoko ran off with their supplies as well.

Hiro finally got to see his District partner's death. She had died during the struggle in the clearing for supplies. If she had run away, she could have survived longer.

Then Hiro saw himself stumble and duck off of his platform, ripping the knife from his dreads. The boy featured on the screen promptly ran off, picking up stray items in his path.

The Victor groaned as his blubbering and crying. "_Man, it's a miracle I made it out of there alive_!" he said aloud, berating himself.

This got a positive response from the crowd in the form of laughter. However, Hiro really meant what he said—that statement could apply for the entirety of the 3rd Annual Hunger Games, in fact.

In the Recaps, Hiro got to watch what the other Tributes had been up to, something he had never considered before.

The boy from 1 had confidently strolled through the forest, managing to club animals for food. The duo from 12 had been separated, but were doing a good job at maneuvering through the forest and finding edible plants.

Hiro watched as the boys from 7 and 10 allied together, a bond having been created from killing the boy from 2 together. They went through the rest of the Games together, killing any tributes or animals that crossed their way.

Kyoko, meanwhile, was smart enough to find berries and plants to eat, and squirreled away if any Tributes neared her area. She also dipped into the Cornucopia multiple times, when no one else was around. She had plenty of food and resources to last her.

Hiro already knew what he did, and of the people he killed, but they played a good portion of his actions anyways. He cringed every time he killed someone—especially when he got to saw the end of the girl that he had pushed towards the ferocious bear.

He turned a bit green, barely keeping from hurling on the spot.

It ended up that the alliance from 7 and 10 had the highest number of kills. They kept running across lone Tributes, working together to kill them. The last person they killed was the girl from 12. The cannon before hers turned out to be from the blonde from 1, who had been chased and killed by a pack of wild dogs.

By the time Hiro had rushed past the deadly duo, they looked like they were considering fighting one another. The Victor got to witness the two boys being mauled by a bear, yet still working together, and going down fighting. The hulking boy from 10 had actually protected his partner from the worst of the blows, leaving the boy from 7 to bleed out and die a half hour after him.

Then came a split screen of the preparations Hiro and Kyoko took. They showed Hiro's whole spiel, after he ate his last ration meal.

It turned out that Kyoko got to the final destination **way** before he did. She had only been a seven minute walk from the clearing, when the beacon of light shone upon the area.

They showed another split screen of Kyoko preparing herself, and Hiro making his way towards the clearing. The girl was intuitive—she filled her belly with the food left in the horn, and armed herself well with many knives that had been left in the weapons piles, as well as a blowgun full of poisonous darts.

Their whole confrontation and final battle was shown, sometimes from multiple angles, like a movie.

Hiro stared in awe as his foolish plan worked flawlessly. His hair was like a shield and battering ram in one, protecting him and making it so that he could take Kyoko down before she could outsmart and outmaneuver him.

So dumb luck, intuition, and adrenaline-based strength was what got him to win.

It wasn't much, but he's alive because of it.

He thanks whatever deity out there for his good fortune. Maybe his fortune telling helped play a part of it as well.

He'll never use his skills as a con man ever again. He's a Victor now—he can do good for so many people, do so much for his District, and wouldn't need to do any other illegal or disgusting activities to get by.

When the Recaps end, the crowd cheers. Aurelius Roadburg raises his arm in a show of Victory, and Hiro gives his first genuine smile since he entered the Arena.

3-3-3-3-3

"_I'm afraid that you're on your own now, Hiro_," the Capitolite Mentor told the tan boy. "_It's your job to Mentor and look after your Tributes, as a Victor_."

"_It's all good, Roma_!" he assures her with grin. "_Honestly, I kinda **want** to Mentor 'em. Make sure they don't make my stupid mistakes. Give District 9 a better chance_."

Roma gives him a watery smile, as she pats his cheek. "_I will be there to support you if you need it in any other endeavor, okay? **Especially** if it has to do with anything with the Capitol. Just ask for my help._"

The tall boy clapped her on the shoulder, a bright smile slowly adorning his face. "_I'll definitely keep that in mind! Now, I gotta split—my District's waiting for me_."

Yasuhiro steps onto the train with his District Escort, ready to face anything that comes his way.

3-3-3-3-3

It's surreal, to be on a train, rushing back to his home once more. It's what he'd been wishing since he got Reaped, one of his delusions to shield himself, keep himself from panicking and lashing out.

Yasuhiro Hagakure stares contemplatively out of the windows, watching as he passes many different landscapes. His expression brightens, a grin unfurling across his face, when he recognizes the fields and harsh terrain of District 9.

Without needing to be told, the newest Victor lumbers through the train, ready to disembark. He's standing in front of the glass door when the train finally stops, getting a glimpse of the crowd outside.

The guards open the door of the train, and Hiro steps out onto the old and worn platform. His expression brightens further, his grin widening so much his face hurts.

Before him is what seems to be the entirety of District 9. The crowd is massive. They're all cheering and waving at him.

It's the first time that Hiro feels truly alive since his Reaping.

There are Peacekeepers and guards stationed everywhere, keeping the crowd back. But Hiro's not afraid. These are his people.

Sure, he's gotten on some of their bad sides. And sure, District 9 is one of the unfriendliest Districts. But they're glad that he's back, even if it just means that they'll have more food in their bellies because of his survival.

They're glad that they have a Victor. And Hiro is the very first outlier District Victor.

Hiro waves at the crowd, who wave back. His eyes flit about, looking for a familiar mane of light-brown hair.

He finally spots her. She's in an oversized jacket, in the front of the crowd, almost having been hidden from his sight by a burly Peacekeeper. Hiro rushes forwards, not caring about the guards that try to hold him back, as he wriggles out of their grips and bats them away.

"_Mom_!" the tan boy exclaims, eyes shining brightly, both from joy and unshed tears.

"_Hiro_!" his mother calls out, her usually tired face bright from relief and happiness.

An empathetic Peacekeeper allows the disheveled woman to pass him, and she rushes towards her son.

The mother and son embrace, the teen dwarfing her in height. Hiro picks her up and twirls her around, her long hair swirling around them.

The usually tough, apathetic woman bursts into tears, crying on her son's shoulder. Hiro's demeanor turns panicked—he's rarely seen his unflappable mother cry.

"_W-What is it, Mom? D-Did something happen to Dad or something_?" he asks nervously, as he awkwardly rubs her back.

"_I-Idiot! I'm c-crying because I'm h-happy that you're h-home!_" the woman exclaims sharply, whacking her son on the back of his head. He yelps; however, he's secretly relieved that nothing is wrong, and that she hasn't changed.

"_I'm happy I'm home too_," Hiro said, a soft smile on his face, as he looked around at the welcoming crowd that received him.


	6. III Part 3 (Hiro)

**AN**: This fic is much easier to write and think over than my others, whoops

Hiro's Games were just much longer than the previous 2, for the simple fact that I 1) went into detail of how he spent his time in the Arena and 2) included a lot of Mukuro and Nekomaru. But now this monster is finally done, and I'm off writing the other characters' Games.

* * *

><p>III Part 3 [Hiro]<p>

Victor of the 3rd Hunger Games

Yasuhiro 'Hiro' Hagakure, 18, District 9

3-3-3-3-3

The affair for Victors Mukuro and Nekomaru going home is much more bleak than the newest Victor's.

They both step onto the District 2 train, quiet and downtrodden. The pleasant, forced masks they wore in the past few days slide off their faces.

It had been a long, agonizing time, having to wear such vaguely happy expressions. Especially when all the two wanted to do was curl up and weep for the deaths of their Tributes.

Especially when they were featured so prominently in the Capitol's news, cameras and microphones never leaving them alone. Every single reaction and expression was recorded, and they had to seem strong and pleasant for the Capitol.

The worst, longest day had been for Hiro's Interview. The Victor duo were given front-row seats. They had to watch their Tributes die once more, on the big screen, curious Capitolites surrounding them.

It was bad enough that their District partners haunted their dreams. Now they had two more faces to go with them. Two children that, no matter what they did, _they couldn't save_.

Everyone on the train leaves the duo alone. There's not even a guard in the room, when they both collapse onto a couch in the waiting room. They stare blankly at the windows across from them, both clutching each other's hand so tightly, their hands become numb.

They have an unspoken agreement: _Don't mourn until we're in the safety of our home_.

Because they both just know that if they let the floodgates open **now**, then they'll look weak to their District, weak to all of Panem. Weak and broken to the Capitol, who will toss them aside like yesterday's toys.

They had already failed as Victors and Mentors, unable to bring another child home. The least they could do was keep their heads high, keep being respectable and respected. To keep seeming like they were strong, and that this was merely a fluke. That they were strong, but they just couldn't transfer their strength and skill to their Tributes—but they were both still capable and wonderful and honorable.

They were silent all through the train ride, not letting go of one another's hand. They were silent as they stood in front of the train's doors. They were silent as they stepped onto the pristine platform to disembark, faces carefully blank and deadly and **strong**.

The crowd that receives them is much smaller, much more subdued, much less grateful and joyful and happy than the ones that had received them both during their Victories. Their people still greet them, saying how they missed the duo, how they're glad they're back, that maybe next year they'll get better fighters, you're both still amazing.

It still causes pain to pulse through their bodies, their loyal citizens consoling them, still smiling and cheering and loving them.

But they put smiles on anyways. Subdued, humble, grateful smiles.

Because these people still love them. And if **they** do, then maybe the Capitol—the epitome of their worlds, the reason they fought, why they killed in such a way in their Games, and did so **much**—will still love them. Even after their failure.

_But can they still be Victors, still serve as Mentors, when their chance was over…?_

3-3-3-3-3

Mukuro and Nekomaru greet their families as if nothing as wrong. The only thing they note is that, '_Oh, Mukuro, you look so tired'_, '_Nekomaru, did they not have enough exercise equipment for you to use? You look a little paler'_, '_Nekomaru, you're not as loud as you were before'_, '_Mukuro, are you disappointed from your Tributes being so weak this year?_'

The duo assure their loved ones that, no, nothing's wrong. The trip and all the things they had to do just caught up with them; they're simply tired.

_Nothing's wrong._

But that's a lie, because _everything's wrong_.

They excuse themselves. Nekomaru gives an excuse of needing to take a shit, in his usual blunt manner. Mukuro says that she needs to stretch and lay down, her back aches, in her usual quiet manner.

They go into Mukuro's large home, plod up the stairs, and enter her room. Once the door is locked, they collapse onto her large bed.

They lay side by side, holding onto one another. It's intimate, but not sexual. It's simply emotional—they are the only person each other is so close to, the only person they trust, the only one that **understands**.

They finally let their masks fall, showing how tired, desolate, disappointed, and heartbroken they are.

They cry.

Only in one another's presence, do they cry, do they show such weakness.

"_It was like this…During your Games_," Mukuro chokes out, curling further into herself. "_Bunny died and…It was horrible. Knowing I couldn't do anything_…"

"_But it wasn't…It wasn't so bad. You survived. You made it out. I was so relieved_…" she went on, choking on her tears. "_I got a Tribute out. You were alive. I wasn't alone anymore_."

"_But that year…It was only one. Not…Not_," she can't go on, can't speak. She clutches onto Nekomaru's jacket, and wails into his chest.

He buries his face into the crook where her neck meets her shoulder. For once, he can't find anything to say.

"_Horrible_," he croaks out. "_I didn't realize_…"

"_No one does. No one…expects it. Thinks about it. Even __**I**__ hadn't_," she says, voice broken. "_I didn't, until Bunny…Then I realized…How much it hurts.._."

They both lay there, hugging one another, the tears never stopping.

"_Will it ever get better…_?" the man asks, finally pushing the words past the lump in his throat.

The woman gives a shiver, both from the hot breath against her neck, and from the question itself.

"_No. Never_," she states bleakly.

"_Every death will hurt. This will be our fate. It will forever repeat. Only when we can save someone will it stop. But we'll still lose one._

_It will never stop, Nekomaru. That's our fates, as Victors_.

_It will never stop_."

Those words—that ultimate truth—simply broke them further.

3-3-3-3-3

It's been only a month since his Victory, and Yasuhiro Hagakure decides that he enjoys being famous and a hero ten times more than being an infamous con artist and moron.

The gratitude and positive attention that gets showered upon him makes up for all the horrors he went through in the Hunger Games. The large house in the Victor's Village, and the large, endless income, helps as well.

It's all Hiro's dreamed of, really.

…To be loved and appreciated by his District, having them actually find him useful. To see his opinion being valuable, for once. To see everyone return his smiles genuinely. To be seen as a role model, and an exemplary person.

He had never had that before. He was seen as a troubled kid. Seen as simply someone who was stupid and comedic, never useful for anything. That, or a simply underhanded con artist—someone that **no one** should respect or depend on.

…To be rich, so that his family didn't have to struggle. So his Dad didn't have to drink out of depression, and could get some medical help. So his Mom didn't have to work double shifts at the small clinic in town, working herself to the bone, having cigarettes be her only escape.

So that he can finally care for his son. He had to leave the baby boy with the mother's family, not having the money to care for him. He hadn't wanted to orphan the boy, especially since his mother died in childbirth and he himself had been alive—and it looks like his intuition paid off. He could now take the child, raise him, provide for him.

…To be able to give back to his home District. Properly feed and clothe all the little ones in the orphanage that he visited often, making the children who saw him as a big brother look healthy, for once. To give back most of the money he conned from the poor, naïve suckers that fell into his traps.

To show the District that they were right to accept him back, to look up to him, to be grateful for his return.

Hiro had changed quite a bit when he came back. Despite all the awful things he went through, and how much they broke him, he managed to pick up the pieces. He came out stronger, wiser, and more generous. He filled into the big role that was bestowed on him, and still managed to joke and smile.

He was a **Victor**. Probably no one's first choice, he'll admit. But he was still here, still a Victor, and damn it if he didn't try being the best Victor possible for District 9!

It didn't stop him from doing stupid things; old habits die hard. But he had smartened and matured quite a bit from how he was before.

3-3-3-3-3

Mukuro woke up shivering and crying, once more. She was reliving her Games—but this time, she didn't see it through the haze of duty and honor, like she had during the time she was going through them.

Rather, she was looking at it through lens of pain, horror, and regret. She had tried to bury these regrets, these ghosts, these nightmares. And it had worked, with the euphoria of praise and adoration from the Capitol, and when Nekomaru got out alive.

But now that she experienced both her Tributes dying, saw so much more pain and suffering because of the Hunger Games…It triggered something in her.

She realized that the pain of watching those Tributes she was tasked to Mentor die in such painful and awful ways…Was **nothing** compared to the pain she inflicted to those in her Games. To all those unarmed, desolate children she tortured, because they were Rebels.

She was a beast, like those black bears who mauled those children.

13 kills. 13 hopeless children she killed.

That was something she was proud of, when she became Victor, when she was showered in fame and fortune. It had shown how loyal she was to the Capitol, showed how patriotic and honorable and strong she was.

But the novelty started to wear off after Bunny Magica was tortured to death by that mob of Tributes, for simply being a Tribute of District 2. When that innocent 12-year-old girl was ripped apart— to pay for **her** sins of mercilessly slaughtering 13 children, and being praised and loved for it by the Capitol.

Mukuro held onto the illusion of grandeur when Nekomaru won. It seemed like things would be alright. He had made it out alive, and she had someone to trust and become close with. To share her fate with.

But then both of her charges died, and when she cried in Nekomaru's arms, she realized that _It will never stop_.

All the despair burst out of their chains, haunting and screaming and blaming her for her sins.

_Was Victory worth this…?_

Her District partner's kind face, before being blown to bits, kept repeating over and over in her mind.

_No, it wasn't_.

She was always much too cold, numbing herself from the horrors she committed. But when just the smallest feeling of compassion and happiness and goodness entered her, it spread, making her weak inside.

3-3-3-3-3

Nekomaru woke up in a cold sweat, his heart pumping madly, breathing heavily. He had those haunting nightmares again. The ones he'd been reliving, about the times of his Games. Seeing things through pain and fear, instead of honor and strength.

Bunny Magica's cruel death had triggered him to act in the Arena. To rip and tear, to torture. To do unto them as they did unto her. To keep her memory and honor intact.

But his tiny District partner wouldn't have wanted her fate to befall all those other children. Yet, he gave it to them.

But he had buried these ghosts and regrets when he became Victor. When he was able to become friends with **the** Mukuro Ikusaba, when he was loved by the Capitol and his District.

10 kills. 10 children he killed.

That was something he was proud of, when he became Victor, when he was showered in fame and fortune. It had showed how patriotic and honorable and strong he was.

But the illusion wore off when his first Tribute died in such a violent manner. And then the girl died, being mauled by a black bear. Nekomaru came to the horrifying realization that _he was that bear_, _during his Games_. He was a beast who mauled and killed, enraged, and hadn't even **cared**.

When he cried with Mukuro, she told him something that made him feel cold and dead and terrified.

_It will never stop._

The pain he caused, the pain he'll feel, all the blood of the dead children he killed…It will forever haunt him. There was no strength or honor for his actions, nor for failing in saving his Tributes.

Victory had been something that seemed wonderful, and it was something he had wanted and worked towards with a burning passion. _But was it worth it_?

As he remembers how poor Bunny got ripped and mangled, and how he did the same to so many other children, he sobs into his hands.

_Such dishonor wasn't worth it at all._

He was always much too genial and soft, despite his strong front. He got attached easily, and hurt himself far too often internally.

3-3-3-3-3

It takes another month for the Victor duo to realize that the other is having nightmares, the ghosts of their failures and sin haunting them.

The man ends up sleeping over every night, holding the woman close, as they lay in her bed in sweats and tank tops.

They realize that they can go through this together. That they can face these demons of the night, as long as they're holding one another. That they can share the pain, just like they shared everything else.

_As long as they had each other, things were worth it, and everything was bearable._

3-3-3-3-3

In the fourth or so month after his Victory, Capitolites come to check up on Yasuhiro Hagakure, and interview him.

Hiro had his son, barely a year old, cradled in his arms when he had opened the door to the Capitolites.

The alien people cooed at the baby, while he questions them, bewildered, on why they're in District 9.

"_Never heard of the other Victors getting interviewed four months in…What's this about_?" he asks them sharply, brow furrowed, as he rocks the bundle in his arms.

"_Oh, you've matured so much, Hiro! You're a father_!" one of the Capitolites whispers excitedly, trying to keep their voice down to not wake the baby.

"_Look, I thought the Victory Tour was when I would get interviewed again, right? So what's with the sudden visit_?" he presses, standing firmly in the doorway, blocking them from entering.

"_Oh, it's just the all the Capitol magazines always prints articles and pictures of Victors Mukuro and Nekomaru—but there's barely anything on you! We were all just curious, and getting a bit worried_," one woman says with a toothy smile, teeth so blindingly white that Hiro has to squint his eyes.

"_Well, you could always ask the District citizens for stories. Bet they'll tell you about how I feed the orphanage every month, or something. Not that hard to find info on me, when everyone talks about me here, for serious_," he says, a bemused grin on his face.

"_You feed orphans_?!" one Capitolite squawks, starry-eyed.

"_A father, and someone who helps the community…_" another said, sniffing.

"_Why didn't __**we**__ think of that…?_" another murmurs, smacking their forehead.

"_I'll let ya do an interview with me—but just one. I gotta put Junior in his crib, and then I promised to teach some of the local kids how to do magic tricks, in about an hour…_"

The Capitolites scrambled after the tanned man, tripping over themselves, wanting to know every single detail of Yasuhiro Hagakure's life since he became Victor that they missed.

3-3-3-3-3

The day of the Victory Tour finally came, and Hiro was nervous for many reasons.

One, he had to leave his family behind. Couldn't take them for emotional support, and he'd worry over them the entire time he was away.

Two, he didn't know what to say during the speech. He'd probably muck it up, somehow.

Three, he had to meet Mukuro Ikusaba and Nekomaru Nidai. The other two Victors. And also Mentors of one the tributes he pushed into the waiting claws of a vicious black bear.

Yeah, Hiro hasn't found the time or place to apologize for that. It's one of those things that still haunts him, one of those ghosts that lingers over his life.

It's something that he still can't fully forgive himself for. And if **he** can't forgive himself, how the hell would the duo who had invested so much into the girl ever forgive him?

But he reasons that killing a fellow Victor must be a big nono to the Capitol, so he'll be safe from their wrath…Maybe.

District 9's Escort finally came to his home, along with his Stylist team. Hiro was actually surprised that they all stayed with him—he was pretty sure that they all wanted a promotion to a better District.

Maybe the novelty of him being a Victor kept them to work with him again.

"_Hiro, we're going to need you to change into this new outfit I made for you_," the Head Stylist ordered firmly, as he made his way throughout the Victor's home. "_We'll also need to do your hair again—God, it's still atrocious_."

"_Please do_," Hiro's mother, Hiroko, deadpanned. She was poking her head from out of the kitchen, a curious look on her face. "_Actually, you should write down the instructions on how to tame it, for future reference. The only time his hair's been decent is when your group's done it._"

This comment caused the Stylist team to fuss more frantically with Hiro, who squawked from all the poking and prodding the group gave him.

Hiro hated the tour already.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro was on a train, heading to District 12. The Victory Tour wasn't just a speech in each District, like in the past. His Escort told him that he had to spend about half a day in each District, to partake in their celebrations.

Him winning, and the other Tributes dying, shouldn't be a cause for celebration. But Hiro didn't say this aloud. He knew the comment wouldn't go over well with the Capitol, even if he pretended that he was simply joking.

Apparently, they were heading to the Districts in ascending order, before going to the Capitol, and then returning to his District.

District 12 was incredibly bleak. Lots of coal dust and dirty faces. He didn't know what to say to these people—citizens from the poorest District.

He didn't even remember their Tribute's names. He had just called the girl Charcoal.

But oddly enough, he saw a spark in their eyes. Despite how downtrodden District 12 was, they looked oddly…approving, of him being a Victor. Maybe they were glad that a powerhouse from the rich Districts didn't win. Glad that even a fool like him, with little skill, managed to win the Hunger Games.

So he told them—and every other poor District—this: _I probably wasn't the first choice, but I'm glad a stupid, clumsy underdog like me became a Victor. There's hope for all of us yet._

He partook in their forced celebrations—just mundane dinners, really. Got to meet the Mayors, the important people. Got to meet the families of the Tributes as well.

The only problems he had was when he met with those Tribute's families who lasted long, but didn't win. Or the families of his victims—both from his bare hands, and of circumstance, with the bears.

He thought District 10, 7, and 5 were bad. That didn't **compare** to District 4, where he had to look at Kyoko's family—just an old man, her grandfather, who yelled at him in rage.

He didn't know what to say, to the people of this wealthy District. So he merely mumbled into the microphone, "_Kyoko was smart. She could've done so much. But my stupid luck won. Sorry_.

District 4 had larger festivities than the other Districts, since they were one of the wealthier ones. But that just made him feel worse.

He knew that all eyes were on him, glaring, blaming him. Their brilliant Kyoko could have won, could have been with them as a Victor. But it was merely the lucky fool standing before them, her killer.

Hiro was grateful when he jumped onto the train to head to District 3, despite the fact that he had killed the little girl from that District. Anything to get away from District 4.

District 3 was bleak. The people were more downtrodden, anger buried under toneless grays and slumping shoulders, but it still made Hiro's gut lurch.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro was on the train once more, feeling queasy, because— _oh shit, District 2 is coming up next. What the hell am I gonna do?!_

Before he knew it, he was wobbling on a wide stage. He looked over the disapproving stares of the crowd, trying to take his mind off of the Victor duo who was just off to the side.

"_My stupid luck got her…Yeah_," he said lamely, barely managing to pass the words past his throat.

"_Um_…_Just gotta say, that we outliers got a lot of catching up to do, with 2_," he added, chuckling weakly, sweat running down the side of his face.

Then he stumbled away from the microphone in fear, signifying that he was done.

The festivities for District 2 were grand. They were the second-wealthiest District, after all. But there was something odd about them—a mixed feeling of coldness and respect, of like and dislike.

Hiro sat in the lavish banquet table, simply staring down at his plate and the food. He didn't want to raise his gaze too much, or else he'll meet the cold eyes of Mukuro Ikusaba, who sat across from him. And the same cold eyes of Nekomaru Nidai, who sat besides her.

He went robotically through the dinner. The Mayor noted that Hiro and Nekomaru were oddly subdued, and also asked Mukuro if she was sick, because she looked pale and upset.

Quickly, the three assured the man that they were fine. Hiro forced out a stupid comment, which caused the table to chuckle and roll their eyes. Nekomaru then told a joke boisterously, which caused the table to laugh in genuine fondness. Mukuro forced a believable smile on her face, and chatted lightly with the Mayor.

Then came the party afterwards, in a large ballroom in the Justice Building. Hiro was swarmed by many different groups of people, and it was overwhelming. He managed to make an excuse of having to go to the bathroom, and bolted for it, trying to weave around people and find a moment of solitude.

He ran right into the Victor duo—literally, right into Nekomaru Nidai's broad chest. Giving a strangled yelp, Hiro jumped back.

"_I'm sorry please don't kill me I really didn't mean it if I could take it back I would oh God I'm so stupid I should be dead!_" Hiro burst out, his sentences rushing together in a quick, almost unintelligible stream of word barf.

The duo looked surprised, eyes wide. They shared a confused look, and then turned their gazes back to the panicked teen.

"_You only ran into me_," the buff male pointed out in an oddly subdued voice, scratching the back of his head.

"_Er…Yeah, but…I'm, ah…I'm still sorry_," Hiro finally said, fumbling with his words.

The woman's expression turned oddly muddled. Then she said, "_Would you like to get some refreshments with us?_" whilst indicating to a far-off, abandoned snack table in the corner of the room.

Hiro's face became horrified, but he wasn't able to say a word against it. Nekomaru had slung a large arm over his shoulder, and was dragging him there, laughing boisterously. Mukuro was slightly in front of them, as she led them to the corner.

Nekomaru finally took his strong grip off of Hiro, a pleasant grin still on his face.

"_You're a Victor now. You shouldn't be pissed-scared of us—we're going to be coworkers, you know_," Nekomaru stated, one of his thick eyebrows raised.

Hiro gaped at the duo. "_But…But I thought you hated me, for_…"

"_Oh, believe me, we did_," Mukuro stated firmly, causing him to gulp loudly. "_However…We've had some time to think it over_."

Nekomaru nodded, serious. "_Yeah. And we realized something—what you did was in the name of survival, and we probably would've done the same. Plus, you're going to be put through our same fate with Mentoring Tributes in the future_."

"_No one deserves being hated for managing to survive the Games, and then having that responsibility shoved upon them on top of it_," Mukuro explained, when Hiro's expression turned awed. "_We're all in the same situation_."

"_Still, I…"_ Hiro started, feeling that he needed to give a proper apology, that he shouldn't be off the hook so soon. "_It's one of those things that haunts me still, ya know? I could've just kept running, but…_"

"_Say no more_!" interjected Nekomaru, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder. "_It haunts you. Shows how much you're sorry, that you regret it_."

"_We are haunted by our own ghosts and actions, as well. It wouldn't be fair, to burden you with more—it would just be hypocritical_," the woman added softly, as she rubbed one of her arms.

"_O-Oh_," the tan Victor said dumbly. "_Well, that's a relief. Meeting you guys' been worrying me for a while…_"

"_Aw, we're not THAT scary! WE DON'T BITE! Bahahaha_!" the muscled man burst out happily, slapping the other male on the back.

Hiro stumbled under the weight of Nekomar's pat, and almost face-planted into Mukuro. Thankfully, he managed to keep his balance.

They both forgave him—but that doesn't mean they'd do so, if he did something stupid and embarrassing like that to the deadly first Victor.

"_So, either of you want your fortune told_?" Hiro suddenly asked, eyes twinkling brightly. "_Since you're fellow Victors, and we're gonna be buds and coworkers, I'll give you as many fortunes as you want. I can do a lot of different fortune telling, for serious_."

Nekomaru and Mukuro shared bemused looks, before deciding to indulge the dreadlock-haired man.

Their friendship was certainly odd…

3-3-3-3-3

District 1 was left. Since Hiro hadn't caused either of their deaths, this was one of the easier stops in the Victory Tour.

The only hard part was thinking of something to tell them. District 1 was the most privileged District, and they probably thought him a dirty fool.

"_Dunno what to say to you guys…I didn't do something bad to your Tributes, and you're not an outlier…_" he confessed, scratching the back of his head and giving a shrug. "_I guess…Keep being attractive blondes?_"

With a sheepish laugh, he stepped away from the microphone.

The festivities afterwards were even grander than 2's. Lots more fancy-shmancy things. It was boring, because he had nothing to really occupy his mind with, but maybe that was a good thing.

He stepped onto the train once more, to head to the Capitol. It wasn't a long trip—District 1 was right next to the utopia, after all.

When he stepped off, he was swept in a whirl of colors and flashes and people. Lots and lots of people. Capitolites swarmed him, and it all felt bizarre and claustrophobic.

Thankfully, his old Capitoite Mentor fished him from out of a particularly loud group of people.

"_Roma_!" Hiro exclaimed cheerily, as he hugged the soft woman.

"_Hiro! Oh, darling, you're looking well. Are you doing well at home_?" Roma tittered, pulling him along, away to a deserted corner.

"_Yeah, everything's good! Got to meet the other Victors—I think we're friends now. Thanks for saving me, by the way—I was getting antsy_," Hiro babbled, a large grin in place.

"_Yes, I could see that_," she said, smiling slightly, as she gave him a plate of cookies from a passing waiter. He took them gratefully, and began to eat them.

"_I'm sorry that I could not warn you of the reporters a few months ago_," she went on, brow furrowing. "_I didn't think they'd go so far to get more information on you…"_

"_Eh, they were just there for, like, 2 hours_," he shrugged.

"_Oh—are you ready to be a Mentor to your Tributes, in the future…?_" she asked, a worried look on her face. "_I know you have a little boy, and_…"

"_Not like I have a choice, right_?" Hiro noted, somewhat sarcastic.

"_I'll be fine_," he added quickly, noting the woman's expression look more worried. He gave his signature goofy grin. "_'Sides, most of the Capitol Mentors don't know what they're doing, either. We'll all be in the same boat, haha._"

Before they can speak more, it's announced loudly that President White wanted to speak with Hiro. With a nervous smile, Hiro bid his previous Mentor goodbye, and stiffly made his way through the crowd to speak with the President.

The prominent man asked him about various thing. Over the goods District 9 received, with Hiro's Victory. If the people were happy. What his thoughts were on the poorer Districts' drive when it came to the Games. If he enjoyed the Victory Tour. If he was prepared to Mentor future Tributes.

Hiro was very nervous for all these heavy, important questions, but assure the President that things were good, he enjoyed everything, he was as prepared as he'll ever be to start Mentoring. He said he wasn't sure about the poorer Districts, but could only hope that they tried harder in the Games.

The newest Victor didn't know if any of his answers were correct. He was speaking to the most powerful man of Panem. Any slip-up could be deadly.

But President White nodded. "_Good. Very good. You've done well, Mister Hagakure. You must be very pleased_."

"_Oh, yeah, definitely!"_ Hiro said quickly, jumping onto the trail, confident with the knowledge that he hadn't pissed off the tyrannical leader. "_The house in Victors Village is real nice, the income's been great, and everything's really amazing_!"

With a pleased nod, the President then dismissed the bumbling Victor, who took the dismissal well and bolted for it.

3-3-3-3-3

Hiro was glad that he was finally back home, after the long, tiring Victory Tour.

He hoped he didn't have to travel so much to the future, because he was getting sick of riding trains. How Mukuro and Nekomaru could put up with it, he'll never know.

"_I'll have to ride the train at least twice every year, for the Games, as a Mentor_," he said under his breath in realization, and gave a tired groan.

_Oh well. It was worth it._


	7. Interlude-- Post-III

**AN**: So yeah, this was one of the few fics that survived The Great Computer Wipe of 2014.

I have characters and the years they won for quite a while, but it's hard to write it all out because I always add crap to these chapters. This was originally was supposed to be drabbles. What am I doing with my life.

So yeah, this is a chapter starring the President of Panem, whooooo *throws confetti and runs off*

* * *

><p>Interlude—Post-III<p>

President Polaris White

3-3-3-3-3

The President of Panem sat in his office, swirling rich wine around and around the sculpted glass in his hand.

He was deep in thought—which was a constant state of being for him. He was the President, after all. He had to constantly think things over, finding the best course of action to run his country.

**He** was the man who led the Capitol to victory, beating the Districts into submission, leading his country throughout the entirety of the war. **He** was the one who drafted a good portion of the Treaty of Treason. **He** was the one who had created the idea of The Hunger Games.

He was also intelligent enough to protect himself and his family from all the assassination attempts. God knows that Presidents and Vice Presidents had a history of never lasting long in office. His Vice Presidents kept dying and 'resigning', but he was going 10 years strong in his position.

Polaris took a sip of the wine glass, his thoughts drifting to the Victors of the Hunger Games.

The First Victor—she had been perfect. A child soldier, incredibly loyal to the Capitol, daughter of some of the best Peacekeepers of Panem. The lottery had been rigged for her to specifically be put into the First Annual Hunger Games, to kill the Rebel Tributes. Why, even a grade-A military pistol was provided as a weapon.

And it all went according to plan.

Now, the Second Victor…His name was also rigged. He did not have strong ties to the Capitol, but he was loyal. His sources in District 2 had told him that the young man idolized the first Victor, and had trained his body. It was only natural to get him into the Games.

The only downfall of the Second Hunger Games was the two pregnant girls who had been truly chosen by random. The Districts were so decimated, so many dead, the birth rates low…There was a large need for mothers and babies, and the census had not been fully realized before the two names were drawn.

Polaris had made sure that his Vice President had gotten on that issue. Made sure that the lists and slips were rigged to not allow any more fertile, child-carrying girls be thrown in the death match.

The Capitol still needed subjects to rule, after all. They may throw 24 children in an Arena to battle to the death, but they still needed children to fuel future generations.

But the Second Victor himself was a wonderful choice. Very enthusiastic and genial man, as well.

Now, the Third Victor… A very foolish man, but who's Victory spoke volumes. He was a beacon of hope for the poorer Districts, when it came to the Games, but not serious enough of character to spark another Rebellion.

He was also incredibly compliant and clueless. A mindless sheep, simply grateful for having stumbled out of the slaughter. A representation of cowardice, luck, and stupidity. He was a phenomenal paradox, and essential in calming down the Districts.

Polaris gave a snort. Even the young man himself had confirmed to him, during his short stay in the Capitol, that things were calming down. He'd managed to lull the desperate and weak into a sense of complacency.

The President looked at his reflection in the rich red liquid in his glass, pondering on a related event. He supposed that the additions he made to the Hunger Games helped phenomenally as well, in regards to calming the Districts...

Adding food rations and riches for the Victor and their home District had certainly perked up many District citizens. It had made the batch of tributes for the Third Annual Hunger Games to be calmer, and more willing to kill one another.

It was essential to shift the hatred the Districts had of the Capitol onto themselves.

The first two Victors had did a marvelous job in killing off children who were Rebels, and gaining the favor of the Capitol citizens. However, they did nothing to abate the hatred towards the Capitol.

The Third Victor helped sow the seeds of hatred amongst the barbarians. He showed how low one could go, when it came to survival. The Third Annual Hunger Games in general showed how fragile the bonds of the Districts were, showed how barbaric these previously considered 'innocent' children were.

Polaris White drained his glass. He had already analyzed and picked apart these previous years, but he always liked to keep such things fresh in his mind. If he became slack, he would become weak, would make more mistakes. His role was **essential**, and he could **not** afford to glean over important details, to make mistakes.

The man shook his head, his white-streaked hair swaying the slightest bit. The weight of Presidency had made him much older than his years. He sometimes forgot that he was 50, instead of seventy.

He rifled through his large mahogany desk, plucking out a thick file. This file held a list of potential Tributes, showing summaries, family members, Rebel connections, and the like.

Polaris' mouth became a thin line. The only downfall of rigging the Reaping was the off chance of someone Volunteering for the designated Tribute.

It was especially tenuous, in the poorer Districts. Those children were more driven to gain food and money for their families and Districts, after his announcement and inclusion of Victory prizes. Very few of the children with Rebel ties from Districts Six, Eight, Ten, and Eleven that he had picked for the Third Games had made it into the Arena, because of this.

However, he hoped that some of these teens would not be saved by another desolate child. Some of these names were vital to execute, and it would be much less tedious and suspicious if they died in the Arena.

He rifled through the files. Two teens stood out to him.

Female, District 1, 18 years old. Blonde hair, grey eyes, 135 lbs. DNA an exact match with the First Victor, despite living in completely different Districts.

He had spies digging into this girl's history. Apparently, the parents had dumped the girl in District 1 during one of their rounds across the Districts, because of how weak the girl was when she was born. It violated many laws—especially the strict border laws, and citizenship…

This girl was a show of the days of past, where District citizens could visit one another. The Capitol had been much more lenient on their subjects, allowing knowledge of Districts to be shared amongst others to create a smoother industry.

This girl also represented the loss of decorum and loyalty to the Capitol. Her parents had both been Peacekeepers, for God's sake…It was disgraceful. They could have simply dumped her in the orphanage in District 2. But no, they decided to save the girl, breaking laws as they went.

Weak.

Now, the other interesting file…Male, District 7, 18 years old. Brown hair, brown eyes, 210 lbs. Son of one of the greatest Resistance fighters and Rebel leaders across Panem. A man who was known as The Strongest Man In Panem, who lived up to his name.

Even when the Capitol had captured the Rebel leader and ran experiments on him, there was no explanation to his incredible strength. And this young man was said to hold the same strength as his father. God knows what he could accomplish, how much damage he could do, if he ignites another Rebellion…

Polaris sighed, leaning back in his plush chair. He had many more things to worry about, other than the Tributes. The Arena, for one. He had to meet with the Games Council to hammer out the details and location of the next Games.

Honestly, there needed to be an official counsel or positions for that. He already had enough on his plate, as well as his Vice President, he was sure.

Then again, being Vice President was merely a title. It was really just a stepping stone to Presidency; they had very little power in the grand scheme of things. Polaris merely dumped work onto them whenever he was overloaded, or couldn't get to the problem himself.

And yet, the Rebels had been stupid enough to kill the Vice Presidents during the War, thinking it would be a large blow to the government…Typical. The Vice President was merely a vulture, always watching, waiting to take the truly powerful position for themselves.

His current Vice was getting a big head, actually…He should find a way to dispose of the fool. Perhaps after the next Games, when the workload is smaller…


End file.
